Taking Back What is Mine
by The Shameless BookWorm
Summary: AU. Abused for as long as he can remember, Harry decides it's time to take control of his life, even if it means forsaking everything that he once thought was true. This has a lot of "Warning" material, so please see Chapter 1 for full disclosure. Enjoy!
1. Into the Snake Pit

**WARNINGS **(there's a lot): Many of the "dark" characters will be OOC, most likely very much so. This is a Dark!Harry story; he will not be "gray," neutral, or uncertain, though there is a twist. There is also a Manipulative!Dumbledore to contend with as well. This story also contains abuse of nearly every kind (physical, psychological, emotional, sexual, etc.) which is sometimes portrayed in detail. This is also **SLASH** and will contain **MPREG**. I hereby declare this fic under the "Don't Like, Don't Read" policy. This fic will also contain swearing and sexual contact between consenting "underage" teenagers (Though, really? This is 2011. I'm pretty sure that it is safe to assume that teens have sex before they are "legal.") Any overly descriptive abuse (flashbacks, memories, recollections, etc.) and sexual contact will be forewarned at the beginning of the chapters that they occur in. Suicidal themes and self-harm may also make brief to extended appearences and will have appropriate forewarning.

I make all warnings with readers in mind as I really don't wish to offend anyone. If any of the above bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, please read at your own discretion.

DISCLAIMER (in effect for the entirety of this fic): I am not, nor have I ever been British, a successful writer, or in my 40s. Although, my hair does occasionally become slightly red when I am in the sun during summer. In other words, I am not J. K. Rowling. I am not a literary genius. I am not rich. And I do not own Harry Potter. Unfortunately. If I did, there would be a lot less Harry/Ginny and a lot more Drarry. And Severus would have gotten his girl. Enough said.

Reviews are always welcome as are suggestions and the pointing out of mistakes I may have missed.

Updates will occur as often as school, and writer's block, permits. Feel free to give me a slight nudge to update if more than a month goes by between updates. This will, in all likelihood be a long story, so I hope you are in for the long haul.

This is a short chapter, enjoy.

Shamelessly Yours

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><p><em>'Now, Harry, I'm sure you're just overreacting.'<em>_Yeah, like I'd overreact over something like this. I can just hear Snape now, 'Mr. Potter, have you not had enough of the limelight, or must you insufferably increase your renown just to get more undeserved attention.' Well, fuck you, fuck all of you! I'm done; I've had enough of this. I just can't take it anymore. _Harry felt the dull throb begin in his forehead, the forerunner to a Death Eater meeting. But, tonight would be different. Tonight, everything would change. Harry stepped out of his room and looked down the hall.

"I'll be back for you," he whispered coldly. And, with a crack, the Boy-Who-Lived apparated to the snake pit, all with the line the meddling old coot had tried to force feed him playing over and over again in his mind. Once his body was done being squeezed through an eight inch tube, Harry opened his eyes to being the center of attention amongst the Death Eaters. He felt every pair of eyes and every wand trained on him. But, the only ones he cared about were blood-red and snake-like and a wand of 13.5" yew and phoenix feather. He cocked a snarky smile at the figure and stood poised.

"Ah, Harry, didn't your dear mother teach you that it is rude to arrive uninvited to a party."

Harry snorted. "I reckon she wasn't able to teach me much of anything."

"And now I suppose that you're here to confront me and all my loyal followers single-handed in some show of true Gryffindor bravery."

With that, Harry's eyes sparked a vivid _Avada Kedavra_ green that set many of those gathered on edge. The sides of Harry's mouth quirked up into a rather terrifying version of the Malfoy smirk.

"No, but it is a rather Syltherin reason."

Voldemort's eyebrows, well the muscles above his eyes, rose to a position rather high on his forehead.

"So, that definitely got your attention." Harry snickered.

Voldemort began to circle around Harry and every breath was poised to see what Potter would do since he had yet to make a move for his wand.

"Are you going to sacrifice yourself for the Greater Good, Harry Potter? Are you ready to die for them?"

Harry turned violently to face the Dark Lord behind him with a vehement yet somehow staid, "No." His voice was cold and unfeeling.

Voldemort took a step back confused and then he smirked, "Do you really think you can? Are you going to kill me, Harry?" he said in a chillingly childlike voice. It froze Harry to the bone. Voldemort's tone and the very question were far to reminiscent of one of the first things Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, had ever said to him. This time, Harry didn't turn to look at the Dark Lord as he spoke.

"No."

A gasp left the less self-controlled Death Eaters, and Voldemort's vermillion eyes widened in shock, but they were quickly masked as a sardonic "eyebrow" was raised.

"Why are you here, Potter?"

A shiver moved through Harry as he turned to face the most evil thing alive.

"I'm here to join you, _my Lord_."

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><p>Cliff hanger...o_O<p> 


	2. What Lurks Beneath

Warnings: See chapter 1 for full list. Chapter contains some graphic descriptions of physical abuse (imagery)

On to chapter 2

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><p>And that was how they stayed for a long time. The Death Eaters stared at the Boy-Who- Lived facing down the Dark Lord without hostility, without the urge to kill and avenge as was his duty as the symbol of the Light. Harry stood for once in an almost friendly manner facing his one-time enemy, now master, yet equal.<p>

_Am I really doing this, do I even regret it?_ Harry stared at Voldemort, thinking of everything that had happened to him. _He killed my parents. But, he never made me, or them, suffer. Not like the old coot made me. He listens when I speak because even though I was his enemy, I was important to him; even I was worthy of his attention. I bet he wouldn't leave me with those muggles. I bet if I had told…I think I will. _

Voldemort continued to stare at the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Surprise-Him.

"Well Harry, this surprises me. What happened to Dumbledore's Gryffindor Golden Boy?"

Harry's eyes became like flint and a cold spark flashed behind the pupil. His eyes narrowed as he said, "I killed him. He was weak; he begged for it, so I gave him relief. He will not be missed."

As Voldemort advanced on Harry, the throb of pain increased to a stabbing juncture of pain and agony. The Dark Lord reached out and placed a long finger beneath Harry's chin, tilting it up to face him completely. He felt Harry' slight flinch as the pain moved on to agony and torment.

"Are you not in pain Harry?" he queried. Emerald eyes met his with uncharacteristic honesty.

"It is manageable; I have felt far worse, lived far worse."

A shadow that Harry could not identify passed over Voldemort's face. Harry thought he heard the Dark Lord reiterate his words to himself, but then again, he couldn't be absolutely sure. Voldemort stopped circling and simply looked at the boy in front of him.

_He's broken._

Harry heard the thoughts rumble through his mind. _Good Lord! It took him mere minutes to figure out what I've been bluntly pounding through the Headmaster's skull for years._

"Harry. If you are done thinking out loud now…"

A groan escaped Harry's lips, and he had the decency to blush faintly. He really did have a nasty habit of thinking out loud.

"I think that we need to see what you are made of."

Half the Death Eaters expected Harry to make a grab for his wand to demonstrate his prowess before his soon-to-be Lord. Yet, he made no move. Instead, he grabbed the limp edge of one of Dudley's cast offs and lifted the shirt above his head and cast it aside. And there Harry stood in front of the Dark Lord clad only from the waist down, with confidence.

"I feel the need to disclose this first, after all my Lord, you should know what I've suffered. You may not want a...damaged follower."

Whispers floated through the circled followers.

"…Damaged?"

"Potter…a pampered prince right?"

"Apparently not…"

"…And Dumbledore did nothing?"

"Sure doesn't look it…"

The soft mumbling continued to run through the company of Death Eaters. They looked at the chiseled abs and healthily glowing, tanned skin. Harry's muscles flexed in his abdomen. Once again, Harry locked eyes with the Dark Lord before letting out a short breath.

Slowly, Harry's hands spread out gently from his sides, palms towards Voldemort and fingers splayed. His emerald eyes opened, but they were not the same as when they had closed. Voldemort was astonished to find that they looked old. They were not the eyes of a sixteen year old boy, but of someone who had seen far too much in his lifetime. He was terrified to know that he played a part in putting those scars in Harry's eyes. For one of the first times in his adult life, Voldemort felt regret.

Yet, Harry's body was not done revealing itself to its new world. The Glamours that Harry had carefully kept in place since he was a very young child, via accidental magic, began to fall for the first time in years. Harry began to feel his body become exhausted, though not due to the fact that the Glamours could shield his body from the exhaustion, but that the effort it took him to release such strong Glamours was required.

The Death Eaters stood rooted to the spot as they watched the adolescent before them deteriorate. The golden color of his skin gave way first to a pale complexion that rivaled even that of Severus Snape or the Malfoy to a dark disfigured one. Bruises, scars, cuts, and wounds littered the young body of one Harry Potter. A few Death Eaters swore they even saw what looked like branding marks. Some were even more startled, not by the carnage that even they restrained themselves from inflicting on a regular basis, but as to the form that the body was taking on even after the disfiguring wounds.

Harry's body began to thin, almost as if it were consuming itself. One by one, the tissues were giving way to a humanoid skeleton. With a final huff, Harry Potter dropped the last of the Glamours he had been sustaining on himself. And what stood before the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord was something none of them could ever imagined seeing in the Golden Boy. Harry's translucent skin was stretched almost to the point of tearing over sharp angled bones. Hips, shoulders, knees, and elbows jutted out of the skin, threatening to puncture the skin they struggled against. The punctuated curve of Harry's collarbones accented the base of his neck. Voldemort could count every one of the young boy's ribs from fifty feet away at the very least. Harry's abdominal cavity and cheeks were sunken so far into themselves that the Dark Lord wondered if they would ever appear normal again. Having grown up in the muggle world, the Dark Lord had seen photographs of many of the Holocaust victims of World War II. But, what he saw on the young boy's body rivaled some of the corpses from the photos. In fact, many of the skeletons had looked _better _than the boy. As if all that suffering was not enough, scars riddled the body as well as open wounds and cuts, some that looked incredibly suspicious to Voldemort, and bruises mottled nearly every square-inch of the emaciated body.

Harry's overtaxed body began to shiver in the night air as seemingly gentle gusts of summer air wafted over the meeting. He knew that the areas of his skin that were not already wounded, scarred or bruised were turning purple due to exposure brought on by a lack of nutrition. Trying to not seem weak was going to invariably be a losing battle for the young Potter boy. Voldemort quickly summoned a spare cloak for his newest follower, but as he gently placed the garment over Harry's shoulders, he nudged against the boy's hip. The moan that left the Boy-Who-Lived's throat was the most agonizing and heart-wrenching noise that Voldemort had ever heard, and that was saying something considering how many people he had ever tortured. But, he had never been this bad; he at least had had the mercy to kill the poor sons-of-bitches once he was done. He had never made them move and live in such a condition.

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><p>I feel like such an evil person. *Sob* Poor Harry.<p> 


	3. Bella Intervenes

"What happened to you Harry?" the Dark Lord uncharacteristically whispered, which was the loudest noise he dared to make.

"My Uncle happened. Dumbledore happened. Life happened, well my life anyway."

"Yes, but what specifically? Did they simply beat you, did they..."

"My Lord, I was nothing more than a house elf. They have hit me for as long as I can remember. They called me names, hell, I didn't even know my name _wasn't_ Freak before I went to primary school. Yet, I would have survived that, names and psychological trauma, they're no big deal right? It's not like they could do any _real_ damage."

It was at this point in Harry's rant that Voldemort, as well as many of the Death Eaters, realized that Potter was no longer speaking with the Dark Lord, but with some other being that was not even there, most likely the Headmaster.

"I could have survived all of that on my own. Without even a second thought. But, what _he _did to me was unforgivable. Not even the Death Eaters treat their...entertainment the way I was treated. How could you let him do that to me, sir? How could you simply blow it off and say that I was simply overreacting? It was not a one-time, you-must-be-mistaken event. He did that to me from the time I was four years old until earlier this morning! I..."

"What, what did _he _do? Who is _he_?" Voldemort's thoughts were realized as words before he had even had a chance to ponder them.

Lucius Malfoy stood among the circle of the Loyal and waited for what he knew Potter had to have gone through. Merlin! Even he had not treated his house elves so poorly. Well, actually, it was a known fact that Lucius was rather kind to his house elves, but for some inexplicable reason, he had become irrational around them during the summer before Draco's second year. But listening to Potter speak was getting the best of him. He knew what the boy was going to reveal because it was the only way that all the clues added up. There were many things that Death Eaters did to their victims, but there was one that was hardly, if ever perpetrated on them. And it was this very action that Lucius feared Potter would claim.

"He...he...he r-r-raped me. Every day! From the time I was so small I could barely reach the top of the counter to cook for them all. He raped me! And when that wasn't satisfying enough, he sold me to others! I was just over five, just a little boy, when I was first sold. I was so little, so small. And...and they used me. They used me! I was nothing more than their good-for-nothing-but-a-good-fuck whore! God! They made me wish for Death to welcome me home when I was the tender age of six!"

A collective and outraged gasp rang out in the camp as they heard the claim that the young Potter heir had made. Yet, all stepped back at the viewing of the righteous fury in Voldemort's eyes. They all knew that Dumbledore and the boy's relatives would pay dearly for what they had done to the young Savior.

It was then that Harry noticed he had begun to cry upon letting out the biggest deepest secret that he possessed. But, he was unable to get a hold of himself, to stop showing weakness to the Death Eaters. Try as he may, he could not get the tears to stop leaking from his eyes. He heard a rustle behind him just before he was quickly enfolded in a warm, albeit tight, embrace by none other than Bellatrix Black Lestrange. Harry was so shocked by the action that he became incapable of comprehensible words or even thought. He simply let himself be held by the woman, even leaning into and craving more of her strong embrace.

"Hush, hush," she whispered into his ear as she gently rubbed his skeletal back grimacing at the vertebrae that stuck out like spines on a fish. "Stop your crying little one. We'll all be here for you. Hush, we'll get you through this. And I promise, I'll promise on my life, little one, they _will_ pay for what they have done to you."

A cold tear hit Harry's cheek as he became aware that Bellatrix was crying as well. Voldemort stood mere feet from them watching the scene play out. It was no secret amongst the Death Eaters that Bella knew more than her share of suffering. It was no secret that the young Death Eater had been raped herself shortly before her _official_ capture by none other than the Auror Alastor Moody. She had then been sent to Azkaban with her husband and brother-in-law where she relived that memory over and over again at the hands of the Dementors. She screamed at the reliving of each and every thrust. She could almost feel the blood trickling down her thighs anew every day. She relived every torturous and tormenting thought that had gone through her head that day. And, it had driven her a little mad.

When they, the Death Eaters of Azkaban, had been released by Voldemort, Bella could not even bare the touch of her husband or any of her friends. She had once been a loving and close, affectionate young woman, but that had been stripped from her, driven her to the point of cruel psychosis. It was one of the main reasons that the Death Eaters, upon learning what had happened to young Bella, were so thirsty for Alastor Moody's blood.

A muffled sentence was heard from Harry as he tried to speak what was going through his mind into Bella's shoulder.

"What was that little one?"

"I s-said that you- you don't h-h-have to do that. I...I know th-that no one wi-will want m-m-m-me. I'm tainted, d-dirty. I should..."

"Harry! I never want to hear you say that again! I, more than anyone here, will be able to empathize with you. Yet, they still accept me. It is never, _never_ your fault! What they did to you was not your fault; you didn't want it; you didn't ask for it! I know!" A sad smile made its way onto her face. "Yes, little one. I've _been_ there. I was raped as well, just before going to Azkaban. I know what it feels like. I relived it every day I was there. Now hush. The Dark Lord is not going to cast you aside or blow your claims to the side, isn't that right my Lord?"

Voldemort sauntered forward to the rightfully coined broken boy. "Of course Bella. I would never turn away those that wish to join me. But Harry, you will not be initiated now. The ceremony takes a lot out of the receiver as well as me, and you are not well enough for it. Therefore, I am going to give you to Severus to heal and recover. When he has deemed you fit for the ceremony, we will welcome you with open arms as one of my _official_ followers. You have already been accepted by us. Bella has even reached out to you, initiated touch! She has dislike touch ever since she was victimized. You will be welcome here no matter what status the ceremony is in. Now," he stated as he gently steered Harry over to a tall cloaked and masked Death Eater who had stood at Voldemort's right hand when he had arrived, "Go with Severus and let us all see you well, young one. We will meet soon."

"Come along, Potter. The sooner I get you to a bed, the sooner I can begin exhausting myself," Snape stated with a light sneer. Voldemort sent him a stern look in reproach, though.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I shouldn't be such a burden. I'll get out of your hair as quick as…"

"Mr. Pot… Harry. You are _not_ a burden. I was…I was merely being my sarcastic self. I will attempt to temper it around you since you seem to truly believe it is an attack on you. Now come along, before you collapse."

Severus gently placed his hand against the small of Harry's cloaked back to guide him to the infirmary in the manor. But, he didn't get very far because Harry flinched violently throwing his arms around his head. His small body fell to the ground and curled in on itself. Incoherent whispers were heard intermittently between the pitiful whimpers issuing from Harry's mouth. More than once, Severus thought that he heard cries of "No, Uncle" and "Please, don't."

Biting back a growl, Severus raised his wand and used a gentler form of _Stupefy_ on the ailing child. Tenderly, the Potions Master enfolded the slight teen to his chest and walked briskly, not to the infirmary, but to his private quarters where he had a more specialized and familiar potions to heal Harry with.


	4. Repairing the Damage

**Finally! I finally updated this. And I made it under my one month nudge mark. Yay! Sorry to anyone who I told that I would have it updated back in the middle of August. I had one of the worst cases of writer's block with this. There were other stories that were simply begging me to write. It was _so_ unfair. And one even managed to get itself posted. It simply wouldn't leave me alone. Rawr. **

**Sorry for making you all wait so long. I had extra motivation: I start college on Tuesday, and I wanted to at least get another chapter up before then. I've got the next chapter formed in my head, so if, and I stress _if,_ I'm lucky and my Great Wall of China leaves me alone, I may even get chapter five up by then. Here's to hoping. **

**Finally, for this chapter the following warnings are needed, as I promised they would appear. There is more description of the abuse that Harry suffered in detail in regards to the injuries sustained. There is also some implications of sexual abuse. And a bit of swearing and darker themes.**

**Sorry for the wait once again,**

**Shameless**

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><p>Snape cradled the skeletal form of the Boy Who Lived close to his chest. He entered the Manor. He had resided in this Manor since the beginning of the summer before his godson, Draco's, fifth year. It was elegant with dark cherry wood sculpted baseboards around marble tile floors. The heels of Snape's shoes clicked over the stone surface. The black clad man felt the form in his arms stir ever so slightly.<p>

His eyes widened in shock. Potter shouldn't be able to move. That stunner, though gentle, could send a grown and healthy man into an unconscious state for hours. Harry Potter was neither grown nor healthy, and yet, here he was, just minutes later, stirring. The Potions Master pulled the teenager closer to his chest with one arm and with the other grasped an edge of his billowing cloak. Carefully, trying to not stumble or deviate from his course to his rooms, Snape gathered his cloak around the shivering body in his arms.

Lines of worry began to crease Snape's normally unflappable face. True, Potter's condition disturbed him, but his ability to overcome this stunner in his condition was far more disconcerting. Snape would know; he had both developed the spell and had it used upon him. Upon reaching his chambers, Snape, unable to loosen his wand from his otherwise Potter-occupied sleeve, merely "kicked" the door in using his foot as a conduit for the small amount of magic the maneuver required.

He walked briskly to the bed and gently laid the emaciated teen on the bed. The black duvet made Potter's pale skin all the more sickly looking. The Potions Master systematically went about removing the cloak the Dark Lord had placed about the boy's shoulders as well as the young man's pants and undergarments. With the teenager nude, Snape summoned a house elf.

"Bitty!"

The young elf entered into the room with a pop.

"Yes, Master Snape, sir. How can I be helping you?"

Without looking up from his examination of Potter, he said, "Bitty, I need hot water, towels and washcloths, and my black potions bag."

The elf's eyes, though already sizeable, widened further until they dominated his entire face. "B-black, sir?"

Snape's head whipped around to stare piercingly at the small creature. His black eyes blazed with irritation at being questioned. This was really not the time for prattling between to sentient beings. "Yes, Bitty! Black! Quickly, I'll need all the time I can get."

A frantic "yes, sir" was uttered just before the house elf popped from view. The Potions Master sighted as he returned to his examination of the almost skeleton. Snape was the first one to see the teen's legs. And, they weren't in any better condition. What Snape assumed to be belt marks littered both the front and back of both of Potter's thighs, and the marks didn't stop at the thighs but continued up over his groin and buttocks.

Snape's stomach flipped at the thought of the belt, most likely the buckle end, falling down on the teen's groin over and over again with sheer brute strength. His brows knitted together in an attempt to rid himself of the thought. He finally closed his eyes to aid in the process. When his eyes reopened, he continued to mentally catalogue the various injuries on the young body. The skin was damaged severely with varying amounts of the following: scars, cuts, burns, bruises, welts, punctures, and overall lack of nutrition. Some of the wounds were fresh; some were still oozing blood, among which were ligature cuts on Potter's wrists and ankles. It was evident that he had at some point in the last twenty-four hours been handcuffed or otherwise bonded to a structure. With all the injuries categorized in his mind, Snape needed only the supplies he had sent Bitty to get.

"Where is that damned elf?"

As if summoned by the mere voicing of the comment, Bitty the house elf appeared in the room carrying all the necessary supplies. He set the kettle with the not-quite-boiling water down on a hot pad on the bedside table. The towels and washcloths soon joined the kettle on the table. Reverently, the small creature handed a black bag to Snape. He took it just as carefully.

"I is bringing all of the things you is requiring. Will Master be needing something else?"

"Yes, Bitty. I need you to assist me right now. When I ask for something, I would appreciate your assistance giving it to me. Please soak a washcloth in the water," the man stated without looking up from his most recent, and most dire, patient.

The house elf nodded and did as the Potions Master wanted after adding the customary disinfectant to the water. The black clad man took it and began to wipe away the blood, grime, and all-around filth from the stirring teenager's body. He knew that the warm water was definitely uncomfortable both from the cleanser and the warmth, but it had to be done to remove external sources of infection.

As the man continued to clean off the frail body of the Boy Who Lived, he could hear some of the whimpers emanating from the form. They were of the like of what he had heard before casting the stunner. It was at that moment, with far more stark clarity than earlier, that no matter his personal feelings towards the boy, the despicable creatures that called themselves human would pay dearly for what they had done to this wizarding child.

After what felt like an eternity, Snape set aside numerous soiled rags full of bodily filth and blood. He motioned for Bitty to take them away and bid him do it as quickly as possible. The Potions Master reached over and snapped the bag of potions open. A shiver of apprehension ran up Snape's spine. The black bag held the potions he used for the direst of situations, for those that were not merely knocking on Death's door but for whom the door was opening for. He wondered, idly, if Potter even knew how close he was to Death at this point.

He grabbed a small vial of lilac potion, a stomach sealer. As Potter was almost completely unconscious, he would have to spell the potions in the child's stomach, though, Snape doubted if he would even be able to keep the potions down were he conscious. After the sealant came the next potion that was the most needed, an energy revitalizing potion, which bought Snape just enough time to run a diagnostic test.

The results were anything but good. The injuries were innumerable. In addition to the visible wounds, like blatant malnourishment and the cuts, Potter had internal damage that was astonishing. He was bleeding in at least three places. A moderate concussion that was most likely aggravated by apparition had caused a slight swelling in the youth's brain; it was a miracle he had been able to apparate at all. Most of the teen's organs were bruised, lacerated, or damaged in some other way, most severely his kidneys, intestines, and liver. A copious amount of bones were broken as well. Snape suspected that he had been kicked forcefully and repeatedly to wreak damage to this extent.

The Potions Master quickly spelled a blood replenishing potion into Potter, lest he bleed out. But, as he examined the extensive mutilation, he realized two things. One, Bitty had returned with fresh linens, and two, these injuries were not beyond his skill to heal but his energy. He turned to the house elf.

"Bitty. I need you to locate and bring Narcissa Malfoy here as quickly as you can. If you must apparate her in here then do so. But hurry."

The elf left without a word. Snape began setting out the rest of the potions that he would need, including an energy revitalizing potion for himself. As he was placing the vial aside, the doors of his chambers banged open. Narcissa Malfoy strode in quickly with both Bellatrix and the Dark Lord on her heels. Bitty popped in at the Potions Master's side. Snape thought he caught a glimpse of Lucius's silvery hair in the hall as well. Lady Malfoy quickly took her place on the other side of the bed. Being a trained healer and used to being summoned at a drop of a hat by the Potions Master, she knew she need only wait to be filled in on the situation.

"Narcissa, I need your help. His wounds are too numerous for me to heal by myself. It would drain me to the point of uselessness. He has severe internal bleeding and lacerations, an aggravated concussion, an abundance of broken bones, and all of the obvious other injuries. I've already administered a stomach sealant, energy booster, and blood replenisher, as well as cleaned and disinfected his open wounds. We'll need to watch what he's given from now on lest we provoke a reaction. I don't have any safe potions on hand to heal his internal bleeding. Your spell work far exceeds mine."

She nodded and pulled her wand out of her sleeve. In a low voice, she began incanting the necessary spells to start to knit the wounded organs back together. As she did, Snape set his face in an indifferent mask. He was _not_ going to enjoy this next part. With the potions they would have to give Potter as well as the ones he already had ingested, it was simply too dangerous to administer Skele-Gro to him. Snape was going to have to set the bones the muggle way until the potions worked their way through the boy's system. Thankfully, he could use immobilization spells instead of plaster of paris, and the potions would diminish to safe levels by the second day.

Snape took a deep breath and firmly grasped the smallest finger on Potter's right hand. He pulled hard, and with a sickening pop, it snapped into alignment. He saw Narcissa flinch as she continued to weave her spells. He looked up at the child's face and saw lines of pain creasing Potter's brow. Steeling himself, he continued on to the rest of the fingers as well as the upper and lower arm bones. As he was immobilizing the entire right arm, he heard a distinct moan of pain and a whimper of, "Please, Uncle, no more. P-please. I'll be g-g-good. I'll never use magic again. I'll…I'll sn-snap my wand. Please, just st-stop-p."

Immediately, Bella was at the head of the bed in between the wall and Narcissa. She stroked Potter's forehead and carded her fingers through his hair all while making soft shushing noises and soothing noises. The Dark Lord didn't know what to do, so he simply observed.

Bella and Snape locked eyes with each other as Snape grasped Potter's ankle firmly. She nodded and comforted Potter a little more fiercely. Snape pulled until the lower leg bone fell into its proper place after retracting back through the pierced skin. He made the limb immobile and walked along side Narcissa and set the lower arm bone on the left side.

The Potions Master then withdrew his wand and began to heal the open, exterior wounds. The cuts began to seal, though he would question the boy on some of them when he was fully conscious. The punctured tissues reformed. The burns stopped oozing clear and yellow fluids and lost their reddened hue.

"Bitty, pass me the yellow cream and the blue salve."

As soon as the needed medicinal supplies were within his hand, Snape began smearing them on their appropriate injuries. The cream was placed on the semi-healed burns, and the salve was rubbed in as gently as possible to heal the ubiquitous bruising. With the topical medicines doing their work, Snape began to heal the belt marks. Just as he was about to turn the limp body onto its side, Narcissa tapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm going to need your help with the concussion. There was more internal damage than I anticipated. Can you spare the…Severus, I thought you said that you had cleaned all of the blood off of him?"

"I did, Narcissa. Why would you assume oth―" He looked at Potter's lower back and noticed the trickle of blood. He moved closer to the area. His eyes widened with recognition. "Dear Merlin! Scheisse! Bloody Jesus tap dancing Christ on a stick!"

He grabbed a wetted washcloth and began wiping the blood up from the source, the teen's anus. He pulled it away and noted the white seminal fluid mixed in with the blood. While holding the cloth against his patient to prevent anymore bleeding, Snape spelled all of the offending foreign fluid from the frail teen's intestines. Then he set about healing the damaged muscles and tissues. He administered the strongest numbing and pain relieving potion that he dared as well as a nutrition potion, which Snape was thankful wouldn't react with any of the potions already consumed.

He looked up at Narcissa to aid her in the healing of the swelling from the concussion; however, he noted that the Dark Lord had already lent her the needed energy to complete that healing. They both knew that the bruising would have to heal on its own or the cognitive function of the area could be irreparably damaged. The two healers looked at each other wearily. They had done all they could for now. Now, it was up to Harry to fight for his life.

Snape carefully lifted the frail form off the bed and had Bitty change the duvet. Narcissa pulled the now silver blanket back and Harry Potter was laid down to sleep. Bella quietly soothed his tense form until his sleep looked peaceful.

"You do not mind giving up your bed to him, Severus?" the Dark Lord queried.

"Not for now. He needs all the rest he can get, and the less we move him while his bones have not been fully healed the better. Moving him would only disturb him. It is not safe to give him a sedative anymore. Let him rest."

"Maybe you should all take such sound advice," Lucius said as he entered the room.

He gathered one of Narcissa's hands in both of his. They bade the group goodnight and left the room. The Dark Lord gave a sharp but approving look to Snape and left, and Bella, with a final pat on Potter's head, departed as well. Snape sunk onto the couch in the corner of his room.

He summoned a blanket and pillow and rested his head. He was exhausted. He looked at the sleeping form on the bed. Just before he drifted into blessed sleep, he whispered, "Good luck, Harry Potter. You are going to need it."

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><p><strong>Not the most exciting chapter, but a chapter none-the-less. These next few will center around Harry's physical recovery and may be a little less interesting than future chapters. <strong>

**Any muggle phrases that Snape uses are, in mind, perfectly acceptable. He was raised in a muggle neighborhood after all. And I did warn that many of the characters would be OOC. I hope that I at least kept my take on these characters consistent. In regard to the changing monikers for both Snape and Harry, they are to reflect both whose point of view it focuses on and their personal outlook at that point. I hope it wasn't too confusing.**

**Also, "Jesus tap dancing Christ" is a phrase that I used from AlwynneaRune's fic "My Immortal Commentary." I whole heartedly recommend both of her stories. Both are currently in the works, but her chapters are always a pleasure to read. Be warned, there be monsters in the form of Tara Gilesbie's...**

**Stan Shunpike: I reckon you've heard of [her]...**

**Harry: Yeah, of [her] I've heard of.**

**Sorry, I had to. So, yes, Tara's writing does make an appearence, but don't let that reflect on AlwynneaRune's writing. She works very well with it. **

**Until next time, and hopefully soon,**

**Shameless**


	5. Midnight Interruptions

Woohoo. Two chapters in as many days. I'm kind of proud. This is to make up for the insanely long wait for an update. I hope you like this chapter. I was actually able to whip this together in a timely fashion. For once, _this_ was begging to be written. It's a welcome relief. As far as special warnings go, this doesn't need much. A more tender side of Severus is revealed, which some might see as OOC, and there are mentions of abuse.

And thank you so much for all the favorites, reviews, and story alerts. I really hadn't expected this fic to be so successful. They really mean a lot. On to the story. Enjoy!

Shameless

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><p>A piercing shriek startled the Potions Master from his like-the-dead sleep. He bolted upright and tried to get off of the couch as quickly as he could. However, his blanket-entangled legs did not cooperate, and he fell to the floor with a hollow thunk. The screaming grew louder and intensified. They were so ear shattering, that Snape almost stopped his fight with the blankets to cover his ears. With a growl, the groggy man located his wand and banished the ensnaring cloth from his legs. He quickly made his way to the bed and spelled the lights on, albeit dimly.<p>

He looked down at the face of Harry Potter and cringed. Even though the screams lacked discernable words, there was no doubt in Snape's mind what was going on with the boy. It was a nightmare, and a vicious one at that. The fingers of Potter's left hand were fisting the twisted sheets and duvet. The boy seemed to be fighting all the immobilizing charms that were placed upon him. Though he was unable to flex either of his arms, one of his legs, his shoulders, and portions of his back, the child still appeared to be trying to curve his back into a c-like shape.

And still the screams continued. His head tossed back and forth erratically. This is what prompted Snape into action. If Potter wasn't careful, he was going to aggravate his already serious concussion. The Potions Master firmly grasped the sides of Potter's face in an attempt to stop the thrashing. It only proved to provoke more shrieking and fighting.

"Potter! Wake up! Now! You idiot child, it is just a dream. Wake! Up!" Snape shouted as he released his grip on the boy's face to pry the skeletal fingers from the linens. The hand clasped the Potions Master's in a vice-like grip. Ragged and broken nails tore into the skin on the adult's hands. The man didn't even notice; he just laced his fingers with Potter's while grabbing the inert hand in an attempt to control the deteriorating situation.

He kept speaking to Potter trying to calm him down, but his agitated, sleep-gruff voice only seemed to aggravate the issue. The boy was now trying to push himself away from Snape. Due to all of the spells keeping him motionless, he gained minimal success. The wailing was now raw and almost painful to listen to as the discordant sounds left the teen's throat. As his throat became parched and raw, coughs and hiccups joined in the mix of ghastly, heartstring-tugging noises.

"Potter! Potter! You need to stop before you start bleeding and asphyxiate yourself! Pot―Harry! Come on, child, wake up!" Snape was near hysterics now trying to calm the boy. The coughing was becoming more frequent; the child was gasping for air in between the shrieks and coughing. A sickly blue tinge crept over thin lips. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of the adult. Whatever the nightmare was about, the dream and maybe even Snape's attempts to wake the boy had triggered a full blown panic attack. And the boy was asleep, or rather stuck in an unconscious state. It only made matters direr.

Snape continued to try and prod Harry awake through words and slight shaking. Suddenly, he noticed another pair of hands were trying to soothe the boy. They carded through the child's hair and pushed it back from his forehead. The fingers belonged to, unsurprisingly as of late, one Bella Lestrange.

Her normally wild mop of black curls was even more wild and unruly than Snape had ever seen. Quite an impossible feat, that was. Her face was mere centimeters from Harry's ear. Though he couldn't understand what she was saying, Snape could hear the tone of voice she was using. It reminded him of his own mother. The Potions Master shook his head and once again focused on the task at hand. Instead of concentrating on trying to wake the child, he went about relaxing the muscles before they became pulled or strained from the effort of trying to break the immobilizing charms.

Fearing that enough magic had been used on Harry already, Snape used a simple massaging technique to relax the muscles. He hoped that it also provided a secure and safe feeling to Harry, for he simply couldn't bear to call him Potter anymore. Perhaps if Harry felt safe, he would come out of the nightmare on his own.

He looked back up at Harry's face and noticed that while there were still lines creasing his forehead, his lips had gained at least as much color as they had had earlier that night. It was then that he realized that the earth-shattering screams had diminished to whimpers, pitiful though they were. He also noted that Bella had not stopped speaking to Harry, nor had her hand ceased its gentle motions.

Snape finished relaxing the last of the child's muscles and was satisfied to notice they had not tensed back up even if Harry was still distressed. There was a groan, and Bella stopped whispering. Snape moved up to the head of the bed and watched the lavender-tinted eyelids slide open revealing bleary emerald eyes. Silently, Snape placed Harry's glasses on his face.

"Pr'fesser?" came Harry's hoarse voice. His throat would clearly need some repair.

"Be quiet, Pot―Harry. Your throat is much abused right now. Just rest it."

Harry nodded. However, as he went to rub at his throat, he realized he couldn't move his arm. A flash of panic filled his eyes. Bella quickly moved her hand to his throat without touching it until she received a jerky nod from the child. Then she gently rubbed the tips of her fingers over his throat to try and soothe some of the pain. Snape handed her a glass of water for him. He had summoned his infusion of clove to add to the water. It, thankfully, would not interfere with any of the potions coursing through Harry's system while still providing relief.

"Now, as I'm sure you've noticed," Snape continued in an uncharacteristically serene voice, "We have had to immobilize most of your body. You had many broken bones, Harry, and many of them require Skele-Gro to heal completely. However, with all the more pertinent potions we had to give you, it simply wasn't safe to go about administering the potion. We will be able to do so in two days, until then, I'm afraid you are going to be quite inert."

Harry scowled. Even if he was in pain, he would still like control of his body. It scared him to remain completely helpless.

"Yes, I know. You would like to be able to―"

A sharp rap came from the door. Harry's eyes widened and a glimmer of apprehension crossed his features. Bella simply resumed running her fingers through Harry's hair. He visibly relaxed.

"Enter," Snape intoned.

"Severus, would you care to inform me why every glass candle guard is lying shattered on the floor up and down the hallways?" The Dark Lord asked.

"I wouldn't know, my Lord. It may have something to do with Harry's panic attack, which judging by everyone's state of undress, you, Bella, and myself up."

"Oh, more than just the three of us are awake; however, I am not permitting anyone in the room at this time." He looked at Bella. "However, seeing as Bella is already present she may as well stay. Now, what happened?"

Snape turned back to Harry and noticed that the boy's eyelids were drooping shut. He had half a mind to let the child sleep, but questions, important questions, did need answering.

"Harry, wake up. I need to ask you a few questions." He noted that Harry immediately became alert and a wary look dominated his face. "They are just yes and no questions, alright?"

Harry nodded.

"Now, was your nightmare about your relatives?"

A nod.

"All of them?"

_No._

"Your Uncle?"

_Yes._

"He was hurting you?"

_Yes._

"When your throat heals, will you talk with me about it?"

An emphatic _no_.

"What about Bella?"

Harry sent her an appraising look. A timid nod followed.

"One more question, have these nightmares occurred before?"

A shaking nod of _yes_ was observed as was a slight quiver of Harry's shoulders. Snape frowned at that. He wondered how the teen had kept them a secret.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I lied. One more question. Did you use Silencing Charms to keep others from noticing your nightmares."

Harry looked at the wall, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. He nodded _yes._

"Now, Harry, you may rest," the Dark Lord said as he beckoned his Death Eaters from the room and dimmed the lights.

As soon as the door was shut, Bella rounded on Snape. "Severus Tobias Snape! You explain to me right now why that boy was in a full panic attack when I arrived in the room! Why did you not administer a calming potion to him? He was struggling for breath as it was? Do you truly hate him so much that you would go to such lengths to make him suffer?"

"Bellatrix, don't you _dare_ to imply that I would cause undo harm to a child. You know how I feel about abuse in any form. I could not give him any more potions. The ones that he received last night were very potent and do not mix well with anything. I try to refrain from using them if I must. That is why they remain in the _black_ potions bag. Do you remember the last time I had to use the damn thing?"

Her cheeks paled as she nodded. It was not a time she wished to remember.

"Good. Then don't question my judgment again. Harry will be able to receive the rest of his potions in two days time. No sooner."

"Okay, okay. Geez, Snape. I was just concerned. I _know_ what panic attacks feel like when there is nothing you can do to stop it. I wouldn't wish them on Dumbledore himself."

Until now, the Dark Lord had been standing impassively by observing the quarrel between his followers. It was quite comical, in his opinion. They were both fighting over Harry's well-being and thinking the other didn't understand what was going on. Had he not been a dark lord, he might have chuckled at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"Come now, it's time for all of us to sleep after being interrupted. The fixtures have been repaired after Harry's magic backlash, and he is resting once more. The both of you are far too stubborn, so I am ordering you to return to your respective beds and go to sleep. Now. Good night."

With that, he walked off towards his own bed. Just before opening the door, he looked back at the two Death Eaters simply standing there. "Oh, and I will know if you don't do as I say. You really shouldn't displease me, you know." Then, he entered his room. The door clicked shut.

Snape and Bella nodded to one another and entered their rooms. However, Snape entered far quieter than normal. He glanced at Harry before summoning his banished blankets and falling onto the couch. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

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><p>Another chapter done. College starts on Tuesday, so I'm not sure if I'll be updating as often as I'd like. Then again, I've got an art appreciation class that may just prove to be my "writing" hour. Yay!<p>

For the record, clove actually is a natural anesthetic. If you buy the unground kind and just chew/suck on a piece of it, it does make your mouth and throat go slightly numb. You can still talk and everything. It just takes away the pain. It's a life saver for toothaches. My grandma and I discovered it. Thanks grandma!

Until next time, dear readers.


	6. Into the Dark

**Shameless is so proud of herself. Writing chapters inbetween classes. Even if they are short. This one didn't even cap 1,000 words. Oh well. Maybe updating while in school won't be as hard as I thought. Then again, it was the first day. **

**This one is character non-specific. But, the identity of the character will be revealed in the next chapter. I was going to start on my intended sixth chapter, but this one popped into my head instead. **

**To NewTimeFan: I know I told you the next chapter would have Draco in it. Sorry. He'll be in the next one. This chapter completely circumvented my authority and got itself written.**

**The newly repositioned chapter seven is now being written, so I may even get two chapters up today. Yes!**

***Press Play***

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><p>It was dark, so dark. And he was…running? Or was he standing still? He couldn't know for sure in the piercing blackness. There was no light. There was no sound. There was nothing.<p>

Nothing at all, except feeling and sensation. He was uncomfortable. The penetrating dark squeezed him like a vice. He whipped his head to and fro. Or was his head held firmly in place by something?

He tried to find an end to the darkness, an end to this inherent absence of light. He was frightened. He had never liked the darkness. Far too often, he had been caught unaware as some devilish creature of the night ensnared him with vicious claws.

That was when he felt it. A dull throb emanating from deep in his bones. It roared into a snarling dark fire. It gave off not light, and still it consumed him. If he was moving, he was unaware. Had he been inert, it remained unknown to him.

All he did was feel. All he wanted was to get away from it.

Pain. Pain rippled like water through his form, and with each ring in the pond, the prickling and stabbing intensified. He couldn't differentiate between the pain in his leg from that in his arms; the agony was all consuming.

And suddenly, in his world so dark, he felt something more.

Hands, invisible hands, reached out of the darkness and groped at his body. Claws grasped at the flesh and ripped furrows into his skin.

Grabbing.

Ripping.

Tearing.

Squeezing.

He couldn't seem to gain function of his body for the hands were ever-present. He tried to escape; he really did, but the hands knew his every movement, his every thought. They followed him. They wrapped around his neck.

His darkness-blinded eyes bulged. The pressure increased with every second. His lungs were collapsing. Every cubic centimeter of oxygen was evaporating.

When had he last breathed? Had he ever in this darkness-enshrouded world? How could the cut off his air supply if he hadn't been breathing?

But the hands increased their vice-like grip, effectively cutting off any thoughts he had ha. His eyes began to slide shut.

Darkness overlapped darkness.

Any oxygen he may, or may not, have breathed in was gone.

Oblivion awaited.

Wait!

What was that? Was something piercing the dark? A sound…speaking?

The groping hands were retreating, but he still couldn't seem to breathe. His own hands clawed at his throat. He could feel indents on his neck as if it was made of iron and of flesh.

He still couldn't breathe. The fingers' marks wouldn't retreat.

Was the darkness…less dark?

Not quite light, but less impenetrable.

He stumbled. Or did he fall? Had he ever been moving? Was he breathing again?

He reached up to his neck. The indents still marred his collapsed throat.

Would he ever breathe again?

Then, there came that sound!

What was that? Who was it? Was it calling to him?

Should he follow?

Suddenly, a blinding flash of light engulfed him.

"Welcome back."

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><p><strong>Not very long at all. If the constant new paragraphs bothered you, sorry. I was trying make it seem abrupt like a constantly changing train of thought.<strong>

**As to the content of the chapter, what can I say? I was in a rather peculiar mood. It was 8:00 am when I began writing it. I was fresh out of my bed and groggily trodding up a flight of stairs in my school. Meh.**

**Let me know what you thought.**


	7. Shall We Try This Again?

**REPOST! There was a really bad error. *face palm* Sorry!**

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><p><strong>Alright. I was able to get two chapters in a day done. So proud! So, warnings, just some swearing actually. All in all, quite a tame chapter on the abuse front. <strong>

**And...Enter Draco! Just as promised.**

**And once again, thank you for all the favorites, story alerts, and reviews. They feed my inner writer. I hadn't really excpected this to get such positive feedback. So, thank you readers. You make my day. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>The teen's eyes snapped open. Blinding white light overcame his vision. A low questioning sound left his throat.<p>

"I said," came a silky voice, "Welcome back." A black form crossed into his line of sight. "Yes, you were out quite a while. Your sleep seemed quite disturbed. You very nearly sent yourself into a panic attack, again. As it was, you were hyperventilating quite severely. It was quite a relief when you came to. Short of using Legilim―"

Harry flinched as much as his immobile body would allow. _No. Don't think about that! Don't do it!_

His eyes squeezed shut so hard that flashes of colored light brightened his self-imposed darkness.

"Are you alright?" Snape's soft voice caused Harry to open his eyes. He had never heard such a concerned tone in his Professor's voice before. At least, not directed at him. The light, he noticed, wasn't as harsh to his eyes. He was able to clearly see the dark pools of his Professor's eyes.

"I don't…like Legilimens," Harry rasped. His throat was still a bit raw. Snape returned the comment with both a searching look and a glass of clove-infused water.

"Hmm. Be that as it may, without being able to administer a Calming Draught, it would be my only option should you stop breathing completely. You either have to pull yourself out of the attack, or I have to do it for you, Mr. P―Harry."

A small smile tugged at the corner of the patient's lips. "Mr. Harry. Have we crossed into semi-formal, Professor _Severus_?"

The Potions Master scowled. "I think not."

And still Harry chuckled to himself. "Well, I do believe I've suddenly become rather partial to Mr. Harry. Makes me feel like a primary school teacher." He paused and then whispered, "Always been something sorta innocent about primary school teachers." His eyes darkened with equally dark thoughts.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably, trying to break the awkward silence that followed his charge's musing. "Yes, well, you are sounding much better today. It appears that the clove infusion is working. At least you throat has healed enough for you to speak."

Harry looked at his imposing Potions Master hopefully. "Will I be able to move around?"

"No. I'm sorry, Mr. P―Harry―"

Harry smiled like an imp. Snape just huffed in exasperation. It had been so much easier to call him Harry when the child had been semi to unconscious.

He continued, "You won't be able to move for three days. Two for the potions you ingested last night. And one for the Skele-Gro I will be administering."

Harry's face scrunched in displeasure. "Why three?" he whined, "I mean, I get the first two. But three? When I was in the Hospital Wing in second year and had to take Skele-Gro thanks to that idiot Lockhart, I was still mobile. I mean, my arm was in a sling but―"

"And that is exactly why you will remain immobile," Snape interrupted. "The Skele-Gro will be working on the majority of your bones. Normally, bone-setting spells could, and would, be used, but they react poorly with energy revitalizers and blood replenishers when both are present in weakened patients. Also, with the amount of…damage you sustained, it isn't safe for you to have so many spells cast on you. I could send your damaged body into shock. Skele-Gro is our only option; some of your bones are severely fragmented."

Harry stared at Snape. His brows knitted together. His gaze locked on an object, but his vision became distant miles away. Truly, he wasn't looking at anything at all. After a time, which Snape waited patiently through, he turned his head and gaze to the black-clad man.

"Really? It was that bad?"

"Yes, Harry, it was and is. You are in very serious condition right now. And, I know that you don't like me very much, but you will have to get used to it because I will most likely be in your presence until you are firm―"

The door slammed open. A tall reddish-brown haired man with a sharp beard advanced into the room. Harry noted that he, in addition to his height, held on his form quite a large amount of lean muscle. Long black robes flowed over his body. His hand clutched a Death Eater mask.

"Rodolphus," Snape simply stated.

The man, Rodolphus, inclined his head. "Severus. You are needed immediately. Malfoy Manor is under attack. It seems that the Order believes that we kidnapped their Golden Boy and that the Dark Lord is currently governing his operations out Malfoy Manor."

Snape looked at Harry's inert form. He couldn't leave him unprotected or alone in case his condition spiraled drastically. Due to the potions he had ingested, the teen had to be monitored. He looked at his fellow Death Eater. "I can't leave him alone. His condition is too unstable."

"The Dark Lord has summoned you, Severus. You must answer his call even if it was not through the Dark Mark."

"No, you don't understand. I can't leave him. End of―"

"Go."

Both men turned to the bedridden Harry Potter. His eyes blazed like fire. "Go, Professor. He called you, and you must go. I will be fine. You need to honor your duty to our Lord. Go."

"I…I can't. Harry, Death Eater though I may be, but I am a Healer, too. I cannot―"

"Have my nephew stay with him. He is both proficient in Potions and has learned the beginning steps of Healing from his mother. He is here right now."

Snape looked from the man to the teen and back again. Both their eyes were blazing with determination. Snape hung his head in defeat. "Fine, fetch him. When he arrives, I will leave. I'm only entrusting Harry to him because I know that he is competent for observation. He also knows to contact me should things escalate beyond his grasp." He looked at Harry. "I wonder how they will get along."

Rodolphus left the room. Snape walked over to a small wardrobe in the corner of the room. When it was opened, Harry noted that the shelves were lined with different potions. Slowly, Snape began to select some, three to be exact. One was a deep purple color, which Harry recognized as a nutrition potion, though the caloric value was a mystery to him. Another was pitch black. The last was a pasty yellow. It reminded him a sick up. He could only hope that it tasted better than it looked, but knowing potions, that was highly unlikely. Snape walked over and placed both of the vials on the bedside table.

Just then, Rodolphus returned with is nephew in tow. His platinum blonde nephew. Harry's eyes widened in shock as he realized that Rodolphus was Bella's husband. Funny, he should have remembered that from the memory in Dumbledore's pensieve. Which meant that his nephew was the one and only Draco Malfoy.

Snape beckoned Draco forward. "Draco. You are to watch P―Harry." A pale eyebrow rose at his godfather's choice of name for the Boy Who Lived. "He is completely immobilized due to the many injuries he sustained. You are _not_ to harm him. He has come to us of his own free will. Now, the potions that I have set out are the only ones you are allowed to administer to him. He must take the purple one, a nutrition potion, in fifteen minutes. The black potion is only for you to use if you cannot find me and something goes terribly wrong. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded.

"Good. You know what it does, and you know the dangers of using it. If you give him the black potion, you must give him the yellow as well. He will need it if you need to perform certain _actions_. Understand?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Good, I have to go now. I will return as soon as possible. Try not to kill each other. One of you has a clear advantage that I do not want to see manipulated, Draco."

A faint tint colored the blonde's cheeks. He nodded his head in acquiescence. Then, the two elder wizards left the room.

Draco stared at Harry. Harry stared at Draco. Both sets of eyebrows were furrowed. Both sets of eyes were narrowed.

Finally, breaking the tension, "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"Well, Potter, I wouldn't expect you to be able to appreciate the subtle hints that my godfather was trying to make," the Malfoy heir drawled.

"Godfather?"

"Yes, I'm sure that you know what one is. Just because you were unaware that the Potions Master is mine doesn't mean that I don't have one. It is irrelevant."

"I know what a godfather is, Malfoy! I had one once!"

Harry's eyes bulged with recognition of what had just slipped past his lips. Quickly, his head whipped to the side that Draco couldn't see. A single, traitorous tear leaked out the corner of his eye and was absorbed by the pillowcase. _Don't think about it. Don't think about him. Don't. Don't. Don't._

"Just once, Potter? What happened, did he leave? Did he grow tired of being responsible for you?"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Malfoy! You have no idea what you are talking about!"

"Aww, is Harry upset? Does he miss his godfather? Does Harry need someone to commiserate with?"

"HE'S DEAD, YOU FUCKING PRICK! AND IT'S ALL MY FUCKING FAULT!"

_No! No! You can't think that. Don't say it. Saying it makes it so! No. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It isn't. No. No. No. It…is. It is. You did it. You didn't listen. You brought this on yourself. You should be the one who is dead not him. He didn't deserve it. He deserved life because it's your fault that he lost so much of it. Your fault. Oh yes, it's your fault. _

Harry's breaths became shallower and shallower. His fingers twisted in the linens. His brows creased. His mouth was drawn. And Draco stood there like a deaf, blind, mute. He knew what his godfather had meant when he said that he should contact him if things got out of hand. But he couldn't. Not when he had induced the issue. He had to fix this.

He walked straight up to the side of the bed and sat on the edge. He put his hands on either side of Harry's face and began to use the pads of his fingers to try and relax the contracted muscles there.

"Potter!" he called out, "Potter, snap out of it. Potter! Come on, dammit. Pott―Harry! Merlin! Snap the hell out of it."

And, remarkably, Harry did. His breathing evened out, and his muscles relaxed.

"Bloody Morgana! I can't believe I just called you Harry. What the hell was that?"

Refusing to meet the other youth's gaze, Harry said, "Panic attack."

"A panic attack? Is this normal for you?"

"Normal? Whoever said I was normal?"

"Fine, you irritating prat, common. Is it common for you to have panic attacks?"

Draco grasped Harry's chin in an uncharacteristically gentle manner. Their eyes locked, and Harry could only nod and say, "Lately."

The Malfoy heir let out a sigh. "Look, you may not be my favorite person in the world, but you did decide to join this side. And it was really scary to see you having that episode. So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you feel that way. But don't ever think that I am going to apologize to you again, so you'd better enjoy it now, Potter."

"Well, then I will. Apology accepted. And it's Harry. Just Harry."

"Draco." He held out his hand. "Shall we try this again?"

But Harry's hands remained stationary, causing Draco's posture to quickly become rigid.

"I can't." Draco scowled. He couldn't believe that he had tried to do this again, only to be humiliated once more. "I would, M―Draco. I really would. But I can't move either of my hands. The necessary joints are immobilized. So, for now, you'll have to accept my intangible handshake."

"Ooh. Intangible. A four syllable word. You must be so proud."

"Hey! No need for snark, blondie."

Then Draco did an incredibly childish thing. He stuck his tongue out at Harry, complete with the customary sound that accompanies such an action.

"So, are you going to tell me what the Professor meant or not?"

"Oh, very well," Draco said in mock annoyance, "The black potion is a very dangerous potion purger. It will flush out any potion that is currently making its way through a person's system, thereby enabling other potions to be ingested. However, it is very dangerous as it can damage the tissues that the potion was working in. It really is a toss-up as to whether it will hurt or help. The disgusting yellow potion is an incredibly strong pain reliever. It would enable me, as your watcher, to remove the immobility spells on you and to whisk you away to a safe house without causing you undo amounts of pain. But it can make you a bit delirious, which is not an ideal condition for apparition. It could splinch you. And the purple potion…Shit! The purple potion."

Draco looked frantically cast a _Tempus_ charm. It had been exactly fourteen minutes, and he needed Harry to drink the potion. He grabbed it and uncorked the vial.

"You need to drink this now!"

"What do you mean now? You didn't tell me what it was. I mean, I think it's a nutrition potion, but still."

"Yes, yes," Draco was frantic. If Harry didn't drink it on time, he was going to be in one hot cauldron. "You need to drink this now. If you don't, my godfather will kill me. And then my father will resurrect my body, only to kill me again for not being able to follow simple directions. And then the Dark Lord will resurrect me and subsequently kill me because I couldn't follow orders and displeased Severus. So, unless you want to bury my body three times over, I suggest you drink this now." He thrust the vial towards Harry's face with an earnest look plastered on his face.

"Alright, alright. Geez." Harry reluctantly opened his mouth for the potion. Draco tipped the vial into his mouth. It didn't taste as bad as he had thought it would, though it was nowhere near pleasant.

Draco loosed a sigh of relief. A deep chuckle was heard from the doorway.

"Is that so, young Malfoy?"

Both teens looked towards the door. There, standing with a devil-may-care look on his face was the Dark Lord himself.

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><p><strong>Is that considered a cliff hanger? XD<strong>

**So, I hadn't really intended on making Draco such a bastard in the beginning of their meeting, but I kind of like the way he turned out. I think it was the panic attack that packed the biggest emotional sucker punch. He's learning, I promise.**

**Let me know what you all think. Reviews=love.**

**Don't worry, I'll update without them. I just like to get them. ;)**


	8. A Skirmish Ensues

FINALLY! AN UPDATE! Jesus, it's been almost two months! I am so sorry everyone. You must all think that I died or something. Argh, college can be a real pain in the backside let me tell you. If it's not one thing, it's another. Between that, my job, and my other class for a new, probably second, job (CNA, woohoo?), I've had absolutely no time. And if that wasn't enough, somebody, and believe me when I find them I'm going to _torture_ them to death, decided that it would be funny, yeah _**funny**_, to rebuild the Great Wall of Writer's Block in my brain again. GRRRRR.

I'd like to thank slytherins-heiress on deviantART for her ability to reawaken my Muse on this one with her beautiful art. She effectively took a battering ram to the wall and completely destroyed it. Hopefully it stays that way. Anyways, there is definitely another chapter in the works on this one. It should, and I stress _should_, be up in a couple of days.

**Thank you for all of the favorites, reviews, and alerts. They mean so much to me. **

I hope that you all don't find this chapter too terrible.

Shameless

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><p>The air squeezed in around his body like a vice for a moment. As soon as he was able to take a breath, a hand reached out and grabbed him tightly. It pulled him to the side and downwards until he was flat on the ground.<p>

Severus Snape looked up at Lucius Malfoy with a scowl until he noticed the dark scorch mark on the wall behind them. Curses, hexes, and jeers were flying around the foyer of Malfoy Manor. With a curt nod, Severus stood and entered the fray. Lucius stood, too, and put his back to the Potions Master's.

The fighting was heated. The curses became more personal and powerful. Near as Severus could tell, there were a dozen Order members fighting against eight, now nine, Death Eaters. However, he was shocked to note that Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, and other very high-ranking members were not amongst the skirmish. It was rather odd since they thought that Harry was being kept in the Manor.

Soon, though, his thoughts were cut off by a purple curse missing his shoulder by mere inches. He began to cast curse after curse at dodging assailants. They were moving and ducking behind statues and pillars that it was difficult to identify those that were attacking. However, Severus did note that there were at least three Weasleys present based off of the flaming red hair that tracked the forms' every movement.

Engaging a rather brutish looking blond whose name escaped him, Severus sent a slashing hex at the man's thighs. They were going to need prisoners to question, might as well take the strongest available. However, the man dodged the hex.

"_Sectumsempra_," the man shouted back at the Potions Master. Though able to move out of the curse's path, Severus was a bit shocked and angered that the man _knew_ about the curse that he had developed let alone used it against him. He knew that the only person that could know about that spell was someone who had read his Potions text. When he found out how that came to be within the hands of such a mediocre wizard, there was going to be hell to pay.

Aiming for the arch just above the man, Severus cried, "_Reducto_!" The stone crumbled quickly and fell onto the Order member; he was knocked out cold. While Severus was allowing him the pride of his small victory, he felt the presence of Lucius at his back depart followed by a dull thud. He spun around quickly and sent a well-aimed _Stupefy_ at the enemy that had felled his friend. That was two potential information holders.

Severus checked to see if the blond Death Eater was still alive. Noting the pulse and small vocalizations, he presumed that Lucius was merely injured but not too seriously. Standing protectively over his friend, he continued to fight with his fellow Death Eaters against the few remaining Order members.

Enemy curses continued to fly around Severus. Some were deflected by the low-level shield spell that he had erected to protect Lucius's downed form after realizing that these fighters of the Light weren't the type to use Unforgivables. He simply stepped out of the path of the spells that weren't deflected by the shield.

Severus analyzed the remaining, conscious Order members. They were getting weaker, tired. It wouldn't be long before they would have to surrender or retreat. Part of it may have to do with the fact that the Malfoy wards were beginning to rebuild by drawing on the enemy energy reserves. However, he continued to aid the Death Eaters with spells aimed at the invading force. They progressively got stronger and more vicious as Severus got progressively more annoyed with the fighting. After all, he had a very sick teenager to attend to regardless of whether or not his godson was watching over the brat.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the presumed leader of the raid, Arthur Weasley, cried for the Light to retreat. However, they didn't seem to keen on trying to rescue either their unconscious members or the presumably kidnapped Harry Potter. The pops of disapparation filled the now damage-riddled foyer; the Order of the Phoenix had departed.

Severus surveyed the damage done to his friends' home. Chunks of marble and other stones littered the floor of the entrance of Malfoy Manor. Everything was covered in abrasive with powdered rock. Some of the ornate statues had been massacred beyond recognition; some were completely obliterated. Though it should not have been funny in the least, Severus couldn't help but smile at the random statuesque body parts that were scattered across the floor. However, he knew that neither he nor any of the Death Eaters, the Malfoys included, would lose sleep over the destruction of the room. All it would take to fix were some well-placed cleaning charms and repair spells and none would be the wiser.

Severus was drawn out of his assessment by the sound of a boot kicking against a body. He turned around quickly to find Crabbe kicking at the downed form of the blond Order member that the Potions Master had subdued early in the fight.

"Crabbe! You imbecile, stop kicking the man. We will need him for questioning later. What good is he to us if he is too injured to even speak? Use your head," Severus growled, "Gather up these two," he indicated to the blond at Crabbe's feet and the man who had attacked Lucius, "And get them to the dungeons at the Lord's Manor. They're going to be in for a long night."

The Death Eaters quickly sprang to do Severus's bidding. The unknowing Order members were scooped up into strong arms and disapparated to what would most likely be their last home. A groan came from the waking form at the Potions Master's feet. He quickly kneeled at his friend's side and pushed the long hair from his face.

"Hey, Lucius, are you okay to get up or am I going to have to get Narcissa to treat you here? I need to go with the rest of the Death Eaters and get the prisoners prepped for questioning as well was check on Harry."

Lucius pressed the palm of his hand down against the cold floor and started to get himself up off of the ground. Severus quickly stepped in to help him up completely.

"I can make it back to the Dark Lord's Manor. Narcissa can treat me there. I'm pretty sure it's just bruises and maybe a concussion. C'mon, I'm tired," Lucius stated softly while leaning his head against Severus's shoulder.

"Lucius! You can't go to sleep until a healer has looked you over. You should know that by now. Let's go, my foolish friend, before you do something that you'll regret. I'll send some men over to tidy up your destroyed foyer."

Severus wrapped a strong arm around Lucius's waist and apparated them to the Manor. He had a lot of work to accomplish before this night was through.

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><p>So, I forgot to mention this above. Slytherins-heiress and I have this rp, which was the exact thing that crumbled that heinous wall, going back and forth. Would you all be interested in me posting it here on FFN? Let me know.<p>

Until later, and hopefully soon!


	9. A Very Bad Man

Alright, so the next chapter is here. I was hoping that it would be a little longer, but, one, it's really early in the morning right now, and, two, I wanted to end the chapter exactly how it ended. I'm just glad that I was able to get this published pretty much when I said that I would. Yay! However, I'm not really sure when the next chapter will be posted. Soon, hopefully.

**Again, thank you so much for the story alerts, favorites, and reviews. They mean so much to me. You guys are all really awesome.**

Enjoy!

Shameless

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><p>The little bit of color that inhabited Draco's face drained out. The words <em>"Is that so, young Malfoy?"<em> hung in the air. The blond wizard's eyes widened as he stared at his Lord.

"W-well, you…um…you see―" Draco stumbled to make a coherent reply. The tiniest glint of smile passed over Harry's lips. He had never seen the Malfoy heir at a loss for words. He filed the incident away for future amusement.

The Dark Lord strode into the room after quietly closing the door behind him. The smirk never left his features as he approached the bed with a reluctant brunette teenager and a struck-dumb blond.

"Really, Young Draco. I was merely joking with you."

Harry cocked his head as far to the side as he was capable and looked at his future Lord curiously. "You joke?"

The idea seemed simply absurd to the teens. Draco, having never been to an official meeting with Voldemort, could only base his preconceived notions of his Lord from the stories that he heard from other Death Eaters or the children of Death Eaters. They seemed horrific to say the least. The same was true for Harry; however, he had had the _pleasure_ of witnessing some meetings through Voldemort's eyes.

"Don't act so surprised, impertinent brat. Not everything you hear is true, you know."

"And what of the things that I've _seen_?" Harry questioned in an irritated manner, "Are they fallacies as well?"

Voldemort, who had been rummaging through some of the items that lay around the room, stopped and stared at his son-to-be-follower. Vermillion eyes widened as an emerald pair narrowed. After all the flack that the Ministry had given Harry about lying, he didn't like being told that he was a liar, even in a round-about way.

"What are you talking about? When have you ever been to a Death Eater's meeting besides my resurrection and the one two days ago?"

The Dark Lord pulled the chair up closer to the edge of the bed and stared intently at Harry as he waited for the teen's response. He observed Harry's brows drawing further and further together until only a small pucker of skin separated them.

"Didn't you know that when you are feeling very emotive, it works its way over into my mind, and I see and feel what you are feeling, my Lord. I can't tell you how many Death Eater meetings I've been unintentionally dragged into. Not that any good ever came of it; I always seem to come in after the interesting parts of intrigue have been divulged. Then again, it isn't like I would've shared any that I got recently."

Harry refused to meet Voldemort's gaze. He was too busy thinking about the implications of this new-found knowledge. _How can he not know that he was pulling me along for a ride through the majority of the meetings? What a peculiar expression he is wearing. I never pegged him for the type to show his emotions. How strange. I figured that he would be too Slytherin to do such a Gryffindor thing. I wonder how it would change if I were to tell him that I feel every one of the curses that are used by him. _

"No, Harry, I didn't know that you were 'listening' in on my meetings. That's very interesting. I wonder why, no actually, I wonder _how_ that was able to happen," said Voldemort.

Draco, who had remained quiet this entire time, thought of something that he had overheard the Weasel and his know-it-all girlfriend talking about. "My Lord?"

"Hmm?"

"May I ask something?"

"For god's sake, Draco," exclaimed Harry, "He is being friendly and nice and has a sense of humor. I don't think that you need to ask permission to speak. This isn't the military, you know."

"You, Mr. Potter, will need to learn that even if I am being laid back, I still expect proper manners. It would bode well for you to remember that." He turned his head to look at Draco. "Yes, Draco, you may speak."

"Well, it's just…hmm. Well, I overheard Harry's friends talking about how Harry's dreams were being influenced by you because you needed something. They seemed really distraught that he wasn't getting the hang of his Occlumency lessons. From the sound of it, he needed the desperately. Were you the one attacking Harry's mind in the evening?"

If possible, Voldemort and Harry's eyes widened further but for different reasons. Harry couldn't believe that Ron and Hermione were talking about such private, and needs-to-remain-confidential, information in places where they were almost guaranteed to be overheard. _What else have they spread around behind my back?_

Voldemort, however, was even more shocked than Harry at Draco's epiphany-inducing tidbit of information. "No, I didn't do anything to Harry's dreams. How could I if I didn't even know that the connection existed?"

"WHAT! No. No, that isn't possible. It had to be you. If it wasn't you then…then…Oh Sweet Merlin…then that means that the Ministry debacle..."

Harry's breaths began to come in shorter and shorter. The pupils of his eyes began to dilate and the fingers that he was actually able to move began to twitch and claw at the blankets that he was under. _If Voldemort didn't send the dreams about the prophesy, who did? Oh god. Oh god. It's all your fault. If you had been more diligent in learning how to protect your mind, Sirius wouldn't have __―__NO! NO! NO! You are not allowed to think about that. You can't. You can't. Don't think about it. It's your fault, all your fault._

As Harry's mind began to shut itself down to try and cope with the revelation, Draco began to get worried as he noted the impending signs of those panic attacks that Harry had been talking about earlier. As carefully as he could, he placed his hands on either side of Harry's far-too-thin neck and hooked his thumbs under Harry's chin to force the teenager to look at him.

"Harry, come on. Snap out of it! Come on. Look at me. Focus. Breathe. In and out. In and out." Harry's breathing began to move back towards normal. "There you go," Draco whispered, "Keep breathing." Unconsciously, his thumbs moved back and forth over Harry's jaw line to try and get him to relax and breathe. Draco kept whispering to Harry to breathe slowly and to keep focusing on him. Soon, the glazed and blank look left Harry's eyes. He blinked a few times and shook his head slightly.

"Thank you," he whispered so softly Draco almost missed it.

Throughout this entire process, the Dark Lord remained silent and simply observed the interaction between the two boys who he had been so sure were enemies. However, now was not the time to ask what had happened. He needed to figure out why Harry was having dreams that were presumably from him.

"Harry, are you with us now?" He received a slow, measured nod. "What were these dreams about?"

"They were about the Department of Mysteries and the prophesy there. That you were going to steal it. Well, that and the attack on Mr. Weasley. If you didn't send them to me to confuse me, why were you there in the first place to spring the trap?"

"I had gotten word that there was something that might interest me in the Department of Mysteries from one of my lower level Death Eaters. I didn't even know that you and your posse were going to be there. Though, it does beg the question about why you can get your so called visions of my meetings when I'm being emotional but not when you are asleep. Something else is going on here, and it has nothing to do with me; someone is interfering and basically framing me for it."

The Dark Lord and Harry stared at one another, trying to figure out how all of the puzzle pieces were going to fit together. Just as Harry was going to voice his concerns, he was interrupted.

"I don't understand," Draco whispered, "What does that mean?" His silvery-gray eyes stared wide-eyed into those of his Lord.

"It means that Albus Dumbledore is a very bad man."

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><p>Ooooh. The plot thickens. Just so everyone knows. I'm "disregarding" the Voldemort's possession of Harry at the end of OoTP. It's going to occur, just differently. And yes, there is a reason for the difference between Harry's visions and Harry's dreams. If you figure it out, I'll write something for you.<p>

Questions, comments, and concerns are appreciated.

Until next time!


	10. Stepping Stones into the Past

**My Muse! My Muse! You've returned to me! *shackles her to the floor with a ball and chain around her ankle* I'm never letting you out of my sight again, Missy! You are staying here to keep the Nargles from rebuilding the wall of writer's block in my head. And yes, they do exist; Luna told me so.**

**Holy Crap! It's been over two months since I updated this fic. I'm sooooo sorry. **

**I'd really like to give a shout out to marksmom for kicking my butt into gear. All my reviewers have been so wonderful to me. I'd like to thank them all: marksmom, DeanCastielSam, blackroseBleeding13, 131817, GoddessonmyKnees*, pinaygurl28, LIGHTNSHADOWS, BlackRoseTat, Ty Rose*, petit-dragon 50, MirrorFlower and DarkWind*, 123-321, Serpent91, Sarahbeara333, Kitty-kat-the-ninja*, Colton's Girl, hulagal13, AlwynneaRune*, Justpucky, NewTimeFan, Loretta537, HummanaHummana, spk, FiresBurningTouch, Elektra 107, TwistedSavior, and CansIHasYaoi. Those with an (*) have reviewed multiple times. Again, thank you. I'm sorry for making all of you wait for so long. College is a lame excuse, but it's the only one I got.**

**Guess what? This chapter doesn't really need a warning. There's some mild swearing and _mentions_ of abuse but no graphic details.**

**Enjoy!**

**~Shameless**

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><p>Severus Snape and a hobbling Lucius Malfoy popped into the Apparition point of the Manor. One of the Manor house elves was quickly summoned with the order to bring Lady Malfoy as quickly as possible. The tiny creature left without a word. Lucius sagged more heavily against his friend's svelte form. Severus quickly transfigured a table into a plush chair. Lucius fell from the Potions Master's arms into the conjured furniture with a plop. His head lolled to one side; tangled platinum hair fell over his face.<p>

Immediately, Severus was on his knees and grasping Lucius's chin with one hand and snapping his fingers right in front of the Malfoy Lord's nose with the other. However, he got nothing more than a pitiful groan and weakly opened eyes. Taking his wand firmly in hand, he brought it up to Lucius's line of sight and cast a firm _Lumos_.

Blindingly bright light erupted into an orb of luminosity at the end of Severus's wand. However, the Potions Master was pleased to note that he got the intended reaction from his friend as Lucius bolted up, alert.

"What the Bloody Merlin was that for!" the seated man rasped irately.

"Hush up. I have to check your neurological responses. We took a risk with your possible concussion and apparation; however, it was necessary. Now, do not follow the tip of my wand. Just look forward. I have to check the reactivity of your pupils."

Lucius remained still as the wand moved back and forth from his left eye to the right and back. Severus noted that the pupils didn't react as poignantly or as quickly as they should have, a clear indication of a concussion. However, he was relieved that Lucius's eyes were at least alert and not glassy.

"Well, I can certainly say that you do have at least a mild concussion. I'm going to have to perform some more tests to assess the full extent, however. Now, just―"

"I can take it from here, Severus," Narcissa said from the doorway as she dismissed the house elf that had summoned her. "You should go check on Harry. I know that you did not want to leave him. I'll take care of my stubborn husband."

Severus nodded to her as she walked up to her husband and began running the necessary diagnostic spells. He quickly exited the room in favor of travelling to his own room where he knew his charge was. He only hoped that Draco had remembered to give Harry the potion on time. It was imperative that Harry put on as much weight as possible if he was to physically recover from his abusive relatives quickly. He knew, however, that the emotional scars would take far longer to heal. A flash of Tobias's face sent an ice-cold shiver down his spine.

He briskly made his way to his quarters. When he came upon the doorway, he clearly heard the Dark Lord answer Draco's timid question. The Potions Master knew that Dumbledore had acted in often duplicitous ways if it suited him, but to betray his Golden Boy seemed unthinkable even to the cynical Slytherin. He entered his room with the question, "What did he do?" falling from his lips.

Two heads snapped to look at him while the third moved as far as the immobility charms would allow. The Potions Master strode to the bedside while commenting on the openmouthed stare of his godson.

"Draco, flies are better caught with honey. Close your mouth; it is undignified," he rebuked.

Soft peals of laughter whispered from the prone figure in the bed. Though Severus knew better than to think that such happy gestures were indicative of a recovering abuse victim, he was pleased that Harry was showing emotion nonetheless. The Malfoy Heir's mouth snapped shut with a sharp click.

"Did you give him his potion on time? And, will someone answer my question. What did the bumbling fool do?"

"Yes, Godfather, I gave him his potion," Draco replied dutifully.

"Yes," the Dark Lord interjected with a glinting light in his eyes, "But you very nearly missed the appointed window of time because you were too busy squabbling with my newest follower." Severus directed a stern glare at Draco, who managed to look appropriately humbled. "And to answer your question, my esteemed Potions Master, it appears that someone has been interfering with Mr. Potter's dreams. There seems to be some connection between us."

Severus's head tilted to one side as he locked gazes with his Lord. "You didn't know that you shared a connection with him? But, then why was I teaching him Occlumency to suppress the connection that you were exploiting?"

Harry let out a derisive snort. _Teaching? Ha! More like mind raping me._

The Potions Master fixed his glare on his wounded charge. "Yes, Harry, I will acknowledge that the lessons did not go as well as they should have. I was clear in my instruction of you. I told you to practice and discipline your mind. It is not my fault that you chose to do neither."

"Well, a lot of bloody good it did me when I didn't even know how to do either! All you did was repeatedly enter my mind with little warning until I was shaking with the effort to simply keep you away from my darker memories!" Harry rasped as loudly, and as angrily, as he could. Though it was healing, his throat was still much abused from the abuse it had endured the previous night.

"It isn't that har―What? What do you mean you were never taught how to perform the basic shields?" Severus took a staggering step backwards. His face became completely blank, unreadable. "But, but he _assured_ me…Oh bloody Morgana. Why does this not surprise me? Harry, did the Headmaster ever give you any material to read, teach you anything about the basic meditative steps, perhaps provide you with a pensieve to keep some of your memories in?"

Harry shook his head slightly. "No, sir," he said having calmed down, "He didn't. Was he supposed to?"

Severus turned abruptly; the heels of his shoes snapped together with a click. However as he made a move to leave his chambers, he felt the iron grip of his Lord curl around his upper arm; his Dark Mark warmed as well. Voldemort shook his head infinitesimally. But, Severus would have none of it. He tried to wrest his arm from the firm hold, but Voldemort only strengthened his hold.

"Let me go," Severus growled.

"No."

"I'm going to kill him, My Lord! He _swore_ to me that he had sufficiently prepared that boy for his lessons after I inquired into the training that Harry had received. He told me that he had instructed the child himself and had provided Harry with a pensieve to store any private memories just as he had for me! He said that Harry had a surplus of potential and just needed the guidance that I could offer in the subject. Even after I complained about the boy's severely lacking work ethic in the area and how he was incompetent dunderhead that would not ever be able to perform above the level of a third year in the discipline, I was told that I had to impress upon him more strictly about the importance of guarding his mind. My Lord, I hit Harry with everything I had. I did not in any way, shape, or form, curb my brutality with Legilimency. I was assured that he was able to take it and that he must be able to take it. I was told to guide him more than teach him! I…I violated, no―practically raped, his mind! Whatever was happening to him while he slept was only aided by me. If he had even managed to build shields, they would have been in ruins by the end of the night! I made his mind open for attack! Let me go! I. Am. Going. To. Murder. Albus. Dumbledore!"

The glass objects in the room began to rattle; the potions vials vibrated against one another. The lights began to flicker. The cacophonous din grew and grew as the Potions Master's white-knuckled fists clenched until the popping tendons could be heard above the glass and drops of scarlet blood dripped down his knuckles and onto the floor. His obsidian eyes narrowed and blazed with righteous fire as he stared down the vermillion-eyed Lord. Draco held his breath. He had never seen anyone, _anyone_, stand up to the Dark Lord. Some of the stories of what happened to out-of-line Death Eaters had him fearing for his godfather's life.

However, no such fatal blow was executed. Voldemort simply lifted his other hand to Severus's shoulder and shook his head. He loosened his hold on his follower's upper arm with a twinge of regret. It would surely bruise. "No, Severus, you are not. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. Harry may wish to take that decision from you. For now, you are needed here. We have an injured follower who needs your full attention. I understand that you are angry. I, too, am filled with fury, and my wrath will be assuaged eventually, just as yours will. But for tonight, focus your emotions on healing Harry. We will figure out what is going on with this so-called connection later, perhaps tomorrow."

Severus visibly deflated and nodded his head. He returned to the bedside and asked Harry how he was feeling physically. He knew that they would be awake all night if they were to help the child sort through the emotional upheaval that he was dealing with.

"I'm fine, sir, just confused and frustrated."

Taking a shot at it, Severus asked, "Frustrated?"

"Well, sure, at Dumbledore, but also with my current situation."

"How so," Draco interjected, speaking for what felt like the first time since Severus entered the room. Though, to be fair, he had been far more intrigued by the relationship between Severus and the Dark Lord; he had never known a Death Eater to walk away from a challenge with Voldemort unscathed. He was also curious about what was going on between Harry and Voldemort. He just couldn't make sense of it. He knew about Occlumency, of course. He was even working with his godfather to become adept at both it and its sister art, Legilimency.

"Draco," Harry said, drawing Draco out of his inner musings, "I'm completely immobilized on a bed due to the injuries that my bastard relatives inflicted on me. I just found out that a man I saw as a protector and grandfather purposefully manipulated a professor who I thought got some sadistic type of pleasure from my pain and failure into completely violating my mind. It's a wonder that he didn't find out about my relatives last year."

"I think, Harry, that you are more skilled in the practice of shielding your mind than Severus ever gave you credit for. Like you said, it's astounding that your mind didn't reveal those deep, dark secrets to him when he attacked your mind," Voldemort stated.

"All secrets are deep. All secrets become dark. That's in the nature of secrets," Harry whispered.

"What?" Draco asked with a confused look on his face.

"It is a quote by writer Cory Doctorow," the Potions Master said quietly, "I think Harry is trying to say that all his secrets are dark. Left unshared with anyone, secrets fester; turn you bitter, until they begin to blacken you with their poison. I would know."

Draco and Voldemort looked between the two dark-haired wizards who simply looked at each other; the younger was astounded at the amount of understanding that he found in his Professor's normally calculating eyes. However, he thought back to what he had seen in the pensieve and realized that their childhoods may have been more similar than he had ever considered them to be.

"I think that it is time that you got some rest, Harry. We will find out what has been happening to you tomorrow."

Harry nodded as Voldemort and Draco bade him goodnight. He eyes slid shut heavily with fatigue that had been lingering in his body without his knowledge. The battered Boy-Who-Lived missed Draco's fleeting glance back to his prone form.

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><p><strong>I hope that you like this update. I went a little more into the relationships that are being established. Plus, HUGE congrats if you get the reference of the quote that Harry used besides the fact that Cory Doctorow said it. <strong>

**I promise to go into greater detail about what's going on between Harry and our favorite Dark Lord in the next update...which I'm hopig to post before the end of the month. *gives captured Muse a pointed look***

**Let me know what you thought!**

**Shameless**


	11. Fear and Betrayal

**So, I didn't quite make my end of the month, but my Muse and I had a fight. She's pushing for this one-shot, which I've got half written. But, I put my foot down, and now I've got an update. If you can see, that's her pouting in the corner. Wait long enough and that pout will turn into a quivering puppy dog look complete with trembling lower lip. I won't be able to resist much longer because she really wants that one-shot. So, be ready for a new story.**

**WARNINGS: Mentions of self-harm but no actual graphic action of it. But if this is triggering please be careful. Hints at sexual abuse. Again, nothing graphic. Some swearing.**

_**Flashbacks are in bold italics.**_

_Thoughts are in italics._

**Enjoy!**

**~Shameless**

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><p>As soon as the retreating footsteps were out of earshot, Harry's eyes snapped open. A cold grip of panic seized his innards, and it took him several breaths to regain his control over himself. He really did hate the dark. Far too often, he had been blindfolded and been accosted. Sometimes, they didn't even care to blindfold him. <em>No, stop it Harry. Stop thinking about<em> them_. You know what it will send you into if you don't_. An unconscious shiver ran through his veins. Such thoughts only ever placed him in two different situations: a panic attack or grasping the handle of a dagger.

He paused there. It was then that he noticed that he had not even thought about his blade since he had arrived at Riddle Manor despite everything that he had experienced. _Oh, well, it's not like I would be able to use it anyway in my current state._ _Perhaps…NO, they can't know about that. Snape is already suspicious. I saw him looking at some of my wounds more intensely than others when I was at the meeting. I can't let them know about my problem. I can't let them think that I'm weak. Get a hold of yourself, Harry. This is the Death Eaters. They'll rip you apart if they find out about your little problem. How would I survive if they found out? They'll betray me; they all will no matter what they've said…just like Ron and Hermione. _

~.oOo.~

_**Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor Commons and struggling to understand his potions assignment. Contrary to popular belief, he really did enjoy potions, but he just couldn't seem to get a grip on some of the principles. It didn't help that Snape was out to get him in the class. He never believed him when he accused the Slytherins of throwing random ingredients into his cauldron and sabotaging his potion. **_

_God, I'm so pathetic. I would want nothing more than to win that bastard's approval. He is the only one who doesn't treat me like some Merlin-be-damned hero. I'm not a hero.** Harry looked down at his covered arms and cringed. **I'm a weak, pathetic scrap of human flesh that lets anyone and everyone use me for their pleasure.** Harry quickly shook his head to dissipate the gathering tears. No one was allowed to see him cry; he wasn't allowed to cry. Crying was for sissy boys who deserved to be used. **Not that it ever made much of a difference to Uncle Vernon. He uses me whether or not I cry. Sadistic bastard. I won't ever be rid of him. _

_**Harry looked down at his arms again. He knew the criss-cross mesh of cuts in various stages of healing that dwelled beneath the ragged hand-me-downs. Wounds were there that he refused to heal magically. **__Sirius would be so ashamed of me for using the dagger that he gave me for _this_. I wish that I could tell him what I'm going through…Maybe. No, I can't. He would be disgusted by me. I'm a wizard, and yet, I let those men do that to me. _

_**Harry reached into his bag and wrapped his grip around the handle of the blade tightly. He wanted to use it so badly, but he knew he couldn't, not there in the middle of the Commons. **__Some innocent, naïve little Firstie could see you do it. How would you live with yourself, Harry, if you scarred a child? Haven't you ruined enough lives? Maybe you should just end it. You know that you can't defeat Voldemort. He's had _decades_ of experience and knowledge. You're a pathetic, disgusting, and used little freak. The paragon of mediocrity. You know that you are nothing special, Harry. It was your mother; it's always been your mother, sweet Lily Potter. You killed your mother so you could live._

_**Harry's head thunked down onto the table. He squeezed his eyes shut. He hated being pitiable and useless. He hated himself. And he hated being his own worst enemy. The damage that Voldemort inflicted upon him couldn't even hope to compete with what he could do to himself. When he was being honest with himself, he didn't even really fear Voldemort anymore. And he sure didn't fear Death; no, he welcomed Death like an old friend. Each time he tore into his flesh, he came closer and closer to that warm embrace. He also no longer feared Dementors. Their icy chill brought the welcome numbness over him that he craved. Of course, it wasn't like he had a pocket-sized Dementor to carry around, so he improvised. His fingers caressed the flat of the dagger. **_

_**It was himself that he feared the most. Harry remembered the boggart that he had encountered in an obscure hall of Hogwarts in the dead of night when no one was around. At the time, he had expected it to morph into the customary Dementor, had craved it would do so. But, instead, he was greeted with a dark version of himself. The figure had stood curled slightly into itself. It looked even smaller than his five-foot, three-inch frame. And then Boggart-Harry had started to laugh quietly to himself. The fists that had been enclosed to his breast unraveled and revealed thickly blood-stained palms. Harry stared at his counterpart, who raised his head to look at him with red-streaked green eyes. The figure's eyes were wide, and the whites visible around the entirety of the iris. Blood was splattered across his face; blood dripped down his chin and onto the flagstone floor. Then, Harry noticed the scars and wounds that marred Boggart-Harry's arms. He cringed; this was him as he was now. **_

_**Boggart-Harry advanced on Harry; he walked strangely. There was a wary spring in his step. He was still crouched in on himself; he guarded his abdomen religiously. His back was hunched over. He moved defensively, like he expected an attack at any moment. Harry recognized it immediately. He had started to move in much of the same way recently, especially around Grimmauld over the summer. He had jumped spectacularly when Fred and George had spooked him the other night in the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. It had taken minutes to control his breathing again. He had been paralyzed, much as he was now. **_

_**As the boggart got closer and closer to Harry, he found himself more and more incapable of movement. Finally, the creature was mere inches from Harry's face and grinning maniacally. He leaned up and put his bloody lips to Harry's ear.**_

"_**I've seen your mind, Harry Potter, and it is my own," the monstrous counterpart whispered softly in a grating, scream-hoarse voice.**_

_**Harry stiffened but did not move away. He was stuck, entranced by this alter ego of himself. The figure stepped back and stared intently at Harry. Harry stared back and then smiled sadly.**_

"_**I know."**_

_**And the boggart had dissipated with a snap. **_

_Perhaps there is more than one way to defeat a boggart. **Harry thought as he was pulled out of his musings. **Acceptance.** His fingers continued to move along the length of the blade in his bag until they turned course and began grazing the edge that Harry religiously sharpened. Just as he was considering doing more than caressing his dagger, he was interrupted.**_

"_**Hey, Harry, why weren't you at dinner?" Hermione called as she and Ron entered through the portrait hole. **_

"_**Not hungry," came his immediate reply, like always. He just wasn't ever hungry, and he didn't really feel like explaining that to them again. Summer was getting closer; he couldn't afford to eat as much; little awaited him at the Dursleys.**_

"_**Harry, mate, you didn't eat anything today," Ron said, "You need to eat something. How are you going to keep your strength up for the game on Saturday if you won't eat?"**_

"_**There's more to life than Quidditch, Ron." Harry sighed. The truth was that the sport wasn't even able to fill him with the same joy it used to. It was just like everything else. He was expected to succeed, to be the best, to be something he wasn't always. Flying, on the other hand, still enthralled him and was able to at least give him some form of emotional release, but even that wasn't enough sometimes. That was when his blade was his one true friend.**_

_**Harry began to pack up his materials; he grimaced at his barely-started potions essay. Three sentences did not an essay compile. He would have to work on it later when no one was around. "I'm going up to bed."**_

"_**But, Harry. You haven't even given us a decent reason for your absence at dinner nor have you finished your essay. Harry, you know you need to start actually trying in school. This is our O.W.L.s year."**_

"_**God, Hermione. Lay off. I'll finish it later. And I already told you, I'm not hungry. Just leave it be!"**_

_**Harry finished gathering his materials and turned to head up to his dorm. Of course, he didn't plan on staying there. He had planned on going to the bathroom or maybe the Astronomy Tower. But, as he began to move towards the staircase, he felt a hand harshly wrap around his arm. He hissed in pain. A part of him reveled in the slight release in pressure that the pain brought. The other part cringed visibly, fearful that they would discover what caused him to react so strongly.**_

_**And that was exactly what happened. Hermione, who had been the one to clutch his arm, immediately pushed the sleeve back and stared at the patchwork of open wounds that marred Harry's arm. Harry, for his part, tried to wrench his arm back and bolt for the dorm, but Ron had moved behind him and grabbed his shoulders.**_

"_**Harry James Potter! What is this!" Hermione all but screamed. Harry was thankful that they were the only ones in the Commons. He didn't need the attention such a scene could bring.**_

"_**It's nothing," Harry responded coldly as he fought against the grips that both of his friends had on him. "Let me go."**_

"_**Mate, why are you doing this? How could you be so stupid? If you keep this up, what are we going to do without our Seeker? Who is going to fight against Voldemort? You know that it is you that he is after. If you die because of this weak obsession, he'll turn to someone else. You're the only thing that keeps him focused on harming as few as possible."**_

_**Harry froze at that. **Of course. That's all I am. The hero. The seeker. The bait.** "So all I am is bait, a diversion, Ron? I'm so glad that you think so highly of me. Now, let me go."**_

"_**Oh no, Harry," Hermione said as she moved to pull him towards the exit, "We are going straight to Professor Dumbledore. He's going to fix this. You can't be like this. It's pathetic. What would your parents think if they found out you can't even behave as a Gryffindor should? Where is your courage? Imagine what people would think if they knew that you self-harm. The press would have a field day. Voldemort would attack Hogwarts because you are so weak. Oh, no. Dumbledore will take care of this."**_

_**That was when Harry burst into action. He managed to wriggle out of Ron's grip and get his wand into his hand. He shot a stunner at Ron first and then proceeded to pull Hermione to him.**_

"_**Forgive me."**_

_**She, too, collapsed on the floor next to Harry's other best friend. Harry, for his part, slumped back into a chair and covered his face with one hand while the other ran through his hair. **What a fucking mess. I can't believe they forced me to this. I never wanted them to know, but I had thought that would support me if they did find out. And now this. They're no different than the wizarding world. They expect me to be something that I'm not._

_**Harry stood with his wand grasped firmly and pointed it at his friends. **__I wish that it hadn't come to this.__** "I can't have you knowing about this. Not now after how you reacted. **_**Obliviate**_**." **_

_**He supplanted a memory to replace the real events. One where he had simply stormed off and left them sitting at the table that he had been working at. One where they did not discover what was hidden beneath his clothes. Harry then placed the bodies of his two one-time best friends into chairs at the table. After dropping off his stuff in his dorm and getting his invisibility cloak, he came back to the unconscious forms. Harry put on his cloak and pointed his wand at Ron and Hermione as he stood by the portrait hole; his dagger was tucked safely into his back pocket. **_

"**Ennervate."**

_**The two Gryffindors shot awake and looked around. They had just enough time to hear the door close shut.**_

~.oOo.~

When Harry came back to himself, the salty of residue was dried on his cheeks even as more continued to fall down. He also realized that he was no longer alone in the room. _Oh Merlin, how could I have forgotten that I am in Snape's room? Christ. How long has he been there just watching me?_

"How long have you been there?" Harry whispered.

"Oh, are you finally back among us, then?" the Potions Master retorted. Harry cringed but nodded his head. He was making a conscious effort to stop crying. It was weak, pathetic. _I'll never be strong enough. But I have to make it look like I am._

"I've been here long enough. Is something bothering you? Why aren't you resting?"

"M'not tired. And no."

"Because you just cry for no reason. Stop lying to me, Harry. I'll probably understand more than you think I will."

Harry turned his head away from his professor and looked at the wall, which was slightly illuminated by the partially opened door. _Why does he just being here and asking questions make me want to talk to him? I don't want to share. I don't. I don't. They can't know._

"Just about Ron and Hermione…how they betrayed me," Harry whispered, much against the will of his inner voice.

"And how did they do that?" Snape just wasn't going to let it go, but Harry was not going to allow himself to say anything else. He just shook his head; he would not look at his teacher. He simply stared at the wall and controlled his need to talk, to cry, to release the pressure.

"Fine, I can see that you won't tell me. Will you tell me why you don't want to sleep? You need to so you can regain your strength." Harry cringed. _Yes, Harry, be strong. Always strong, never weak._ "If you don't, it will take you far longer to heal." Harry stiffened at that; it was unexpected. He looked over at the Potions Master.

"I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Won't," Harry whispered firmly. _Too many things await me in my sleep_.

"Why not?" Snape pressed questioningly.

Harry just shook his head. He'd already said too much. He did not want to talk; he didn't. Suddenly, a hand rested on his shoulder. Harry flinched, but the hand remained on his shoulder just gently resting there.

Snape crouched down so that he was at eye level with Harry as he asked, "Do you want me to sit with you? Maybe then you could fall asleep."

Harry closed his eyes.

"Okay."

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><p><strong>Just so everyone knows, self-harm is a very serious issue that can consume your thoughts and easily become an addiction. Tell someone if you are self-harming or feel like you want to. Not everyone reacts the way that Harry's friends did. And you guys had such a firm reaction to Dumbles's interfering. I wonder what you are going to think of the Gryffindors. Death threats against them are welcomed, especially if they are creative and original. I'm all ears. <strong>

**So, not the most action-packed chapter, but I wanted to develop Harry's character and past. I hope that you liked it.**

**Thanks go out to: AlwynneaRune, Ty Rose, TwistedSavior, SeverusDmitri18, blackroseBleeding13, WolfGirl75, Pri-Chan 1410, GoddessonmyKnees, dragonfreak1991, marksmom, and MirrorFlower and DarkWind for their reviews. **

**Thank you to everyone else for the favorites and alerts. **

**You guys warm my heart.**

**~Shameless**


	12. Not Just a River

Hey all,

Gods alive. "I'm Sorry" doesn't even begin to cover how much I owe all of you. You've been waiting so patiently since when? February? You guys deserve statues in your honor for your patience. Seriously. It's no excuse, but I've been completely bogged down. My Muse took off for a while, and then semester started up again. Add on a heap of "Yeah, two jobs and full-time college is a good idea" and I'm now looking at an update almost a year later. I'm going to try so so so hard to be more prompt with updates. It _should_ be easier next semster because I've got a light load and am only required to be there Mondays and Wednesdays.

So, anywhoo. Here is TBWIM's update. I really needed to get something out there again. I hope that you like it. This will probably have to cut it as a "Whatever You Celebrate" gift to all my readers as I most likely won't be on until after the holidays. I also wanted to get a chapter up for you guys before the world ends. Sorry that you won't know how this story ends, but I promise to share if we all end up in the mysterious beyond!

I'm trying to get this story moving forward and developing the characters. Just so you all know. The characters are going to be OOC most of the time. Sorry if that rubs you the wrong way. If you're just picking this story up, please see the beginning of chapter one for a more extensive warning list. **Warnings for this chapter**: allusions to self-harm and depression. Nothing overly serious, but if this is triggering, please exercise caution. Also, **I do not own Harry Potter. Ever. At all. Unfortunately.**

Please enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think...even if it is just an upbraiding for taking so bloody long to get this posted.

**Also, I've decided to open up the reviews to non-members. Flames will either be publically mocked or used to roast marshmallows. Most likely both. If you leave questions, please include an email address for me to get back to you. Just tell me your email name, like "someone_11" and the site you got through, like "yahoo". It _should_ work. If you don't mind a public answer, I can respond in the next update, but sometimes updates can be far and few between. Of course, it might also prompt me to update quicker.**

Shameless

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><p>Severus was surprised that Harry had even agreed with his proposition. He had figured that the teen would be too independent to accept his presence. That, or too self-sacrificing. He could not believe what Dumbledore had put the boy through. It had been very similar to his own experiences for sure. Severus could vividly remember begging the Headmaster not to send him back home. He hated his home life, much like he hated his father.<p>

Severus watched Harry close his eyes more tightly. The boy was obviously trying too hard to fall asleep, but he knew how arduous that could be when one was scared. The Potions Master quietly sat on the edge of the bed. He watched Harry's face pinch in fright.

"It's alright, Harry. It's just me. Relax and go to sleep. You are going to need your strength."

While still tense, Harry did manage to relax infinitesimally. Severus sighed inwardly. _Harry has a long way to go. We haven't even begun to scratch the surface_.

Staring down at the prone and very much away teen, Severus wondered if it would incite a panic attack if he were to hold Harry's hand to offer him reassurance. And at that thought, the man startled. He could not understand why he was growing so attached to the teen so quickly. He had spent a better part of his life despising anyone with the name Potter, and he had made Harry's life a living hell both in and out of the classroom since 1991. Severus took a deep breath. He knew that this was going to be a hard transition for Harry to make. He dreaded the day that he would need to explain all of his actions towards the child. Many of them, he saw now, were quite petty and uncalled for. He just hoped that Harry would allow him to share his side of what happened, and maybe, just maybe, Harry would find it in himself to forgive the bitter Potions Master.

He glanced back down at Harry's tense form. It was all-too-familiar to Severus. He had spent many years begging himself to relax enough to allow the oblivion of sleep to take him. This drew him back to his original musings. _Will Harry be adverse to receiving physical reassurance and comfort at my hand?_ Severus remembered the comforting feeling of his mother holding his hand while he tried to sleep. Those were the few nights that he actually managed to sleep well. Unfortunately, they had been far and few between. Watching Harry struggle to fall asleep, Severus came to a decision.

"Harry."

The wounded and immobilized teen's eyes flew open. Fear sparked in the shadowed emerald orbs, but there was not an ounce of sleep in them. It didn't surprise Severus in the least. He had expected it; Harry would either pretend to sleep or push for his body to fall asleep to no avail. Severus noted the minute tremors that were running through Harry's body. That was to be expected, too. After all, sometimes the scariest things occur in the dark of the night.

"Calm down, Harry. It's just me," he spoke softly and without his somewhat caustic bite. His low voice seemed to calm Harry down as the shivers of fear stopped coursing through his healing body. "There you go. It seems like there is something keeping you from falling asleep. I'm not going to force you to talk to me about it, but I will listen should you choose to confide in me."

Harry closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. "No, I don't want to talk about it. Just leave me to fall to sleep on my own."

"And yet I highly doubt that you will be able to do such let alone choose to go to sleep."

"And what makes you think that," Harry snapped; anger burned in his green eyes.

"Oh, please, Mr. Potter, do try a different ruse. I'm far too used to anger and feigning innocence. I know your ploys," the smooth voice drawled. Severus raised his eyebrow as he stared at the bedridden teen. Yes, he knew about acting innocent and getting angry when backed into a corner. He also knew that Harry would not ask for his help; he would have to simply give it and see if Harry accepted it.

"You do, do you? You know nothing about me, Professor." Harry turned his head away from Severus; it was the closest thing that he could get to turning his back to the Professor.

"Really, Harry? I know _nothing_ about you? I know nothing of your pride, your loyalty, your courage and bravery despite its foolish bandying. Yes, I will admit that there are side to you, layers buried deep, that until a few days ago, I was ignorant to."

Harry snorted. "Yeah. _Ignorant_. More like willfully blind. In case it had escaped your notice, Professor, I am nothing like my father. I'm not spoiled rotten; I'm not arrogant; I absolutely don't revel in my fame or the suffering of others―"

"Harry!"

Severs gently took Harry's frail hand into his own and squeezed it, asking to do so be damned. A jolt went through the Potions Master when he noticed the shimmering tracks of tears just beginning on Harry's face. He could remember the teen crying only once before: at the meeting two days prior.

"Would you look at me?"

Wearily, Harry turned his head around to face Severus. His eyes were half-lidded. It seemed to Severus that Harry wasn't even looking at him but rather through him. It was as if he had retreated into his mind. Severus reached out, slowly so as not to startle the wounded teen, and brushed the tears away.

"Yes, Harry, you are right. You are not James Potter, and I just didn't want to see it because of the hurts that he heaped on me. That does not make it right. And," he paused for a soft sigh. _I guess these confessions will come sooner than I had anticipated._ "I'm sorry."

There was a brief moment of silence, and the only sounds heard were the whispers of air emitted from breathing. Severus had yet to remove his hand from Harry's, and he wouldn't until the teen requested he do so.

"Would…" Harry whispered.

Snape lowered his voice as he said, "Yes?"

"Would you have left me there? If you…if you had known, would you have left me there?"

Snape's hand contracted in anger. _How can the child think me so cruel? Does he truly think I'd leave a child in a situation such as that?!_ Suddenly, Severus's eyes widened. _Idiotic child!_ "Of course I would not have left you there, you idiot child. I may be harsh and far from pleasant, but I would never allow any child in my care to suffer so. You're not so unlike my Slytherins in that regard, Harry."

Harry scoffed despite the fact that his face betrayed his wariness and mistrust. "I've helped quite a few of them from a less than ideal home life," Severus continued, "Since it has been made abundantly clear that the Headmaster will not intervene but just sit by and do nothing more than offer those infernal candies."

"Merlin, ain't that the god-awful truth. I think I tried to tell him at least twice a year about my life. But it was always 'I'm sure you're exaggerating, Harry" or "I don't think that it is as much of a problem as you think it is, Harry" or "Try to think about it from their point of view, Harry; you have a gift that they don't, my boy" or my personal favorite "It's for―"

"―the Greater Good, S―"

Severus looked away and suppressed the shiver that wanted to fall the length of his spine. _Merlin, but I heard the same things through my schooldays_.

"Yeah, the Greater Fucking Good. Like I give a flying fuck about that any more. Ain't it just gonna tickle Dumbledore's fucking beard when he finds out what I've done. God, they're gonna hate me. 'Spose it's nothing I don't deserve, really."

Severus gripped Harry's hand a little harder, which in turn caused Harry jump a little. He had obviously forgotten that Severus had been holding it.

"First of all, vulgarity is not to be tolerated; it is unbecoming and frankly makes you look less intelligent than you are because you are unable to procure a better way of speaking. And secondly, no matter what you've done, you do not deserve what they did to you. It's a wonder you have not cracked yet."

"Are you so certain I haven't?" Harry whispered, "Sometimes, I feel like I'm floating and other times like I'm falling straight beneath the surface, and all of a sudden, I'm somewhere else. Somewhere I don't remember going; I'm doing things I don't remember doing; things I don't want to do. And it feels like there's only one way to relieve that feeling, only one way to cope…"

Severus arched his brow. Oh, he knew for sure what Harry meant by "coping" as the marks on the teen's arms left little to the imagination when one was aware of darker sides of human tragedy. But now was not the time to confront the teen on that; he was nearly certain that Harry hadn't even realized that he had let the information slip. A confrontation would be fruitless, and Harry would only retreat inside himself.

_No_, Severus decided, _his trust in me is tentative as it is. I don't want to crust it_.

"Mr. Potter," Harry cringed involuntarily. "Believe you me, there are things that we will be addressing; as it is, they are for a later date. As for the other experiences you've described, they are quite common in cases of depression and post traumatic stress disorder."

"I'm not depressed!"

Severus snorted violently, "Yes, but denial is not only a river in Egypt."

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not depressed."

Severus strategically said nothing. _Harry, you wouldn't know Depression if it walked up, stuck its hand out at you, and gave you a proper introduction. Merlin, how am I going to get you to see, to accept and heal? _Severus looked down at Harry again, simply watching the blank green eyes stare at the ceiling. He sighed quietly, not that Harry noticed anyway. Wherever he had retreated to in his mind, he was not aware of the more subtle things going on around him. Slowly, Harry's eyelids began to droop; his breathing slowed.

"Come on, Harry. It's time to rest. I'm not going to leave you in the night. Just go to sleep," the Potions Master whispered. And, by some unconscious, or unbidden, rule, Harry did just that.

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><p>I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. And thank you for the numerous follows and favorites. Also, thanks go out to: <strong>Mashkai30, IchigoRenji, TeaAndCrumpetsIfYouPlease, blackroseBleeding13, ryouXichigo-lover, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, Nerdy Slytherin, dragonfreak1991, <strong>and **marksmom **for their wonderful reviews. All of you, whether you left a review or not, make my day.

Happy Whatever You Celebrate!

~Shameless


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